


Those Who Wear The Crown

by SinisterSound



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Betrayals, Eventual Smut, I just like writing people in love, Joseon Era!AU, King!Hongjoong, Kissing, Lots of kissing, M/M, Making Out, Over-use of flowery language, Palace, Royals, Scholar!Seonghwa, because I am a sucker for soft shit, forgive me if it seems repetative, i have no idea how to write people being intimate, it will not, i’m trying the balance fluff and plot, just a couple of gays trying to make it, no, royalty!au, suggestive content, tagging is hard, the others work around the palace, this is mostly self indulgent, will this stop me?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-01-05 08:11:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 80,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18362057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinisterSound/pseuds/SinisterSound
Summary: Those who wear the crown must bear its burden.Hongjoong and Seonghwa spend their lives sneaking moments together. It’s not enough, but it’s all they have.The palace is falling into unrest and secrets are floating around every corner.No one ever warns you how lonely it is at the top. Thankfully, some are lucky enough to not be alone.No one warns you how dangerous it is to have company at the top.





	1. The Weight of Desire

**Author's Note:**

> Wassup people! I’m back, as promised!  
> So this is another new one, and I hope it came out as good as I think it did!  
> I edited it myself so there will be errors, but I hope you enjoy this first chapter! 
> 
> (Also thank you to everyone who commented on my last one~ you guys make me all warm and fuzzy and are the reason I felt like I needed to get this out so quickly~~)

Hongjoong walked the paths of the garden slowly, stopping every few feet to smell a flower or to trail his hand along a stone. There was the gentle babbling of water across rock from the little river that wound through the greenery, flower petals floating among the current as leisurely and unbothered as one could possibly be. 

Hongjoong wished for that feeling.  

He hummed passively as he listened to yet another advisor demand he send more troops to the border, to prepare for war. He could continue to talk until the breath in his chest had run dry, and Hongjoong would continue to admire the garden. There was a bird among one flower bush’s leaves, and he wondered vaguely how close he could get before frightening it. 

The entourage of palace guards and noblemen behind them tittered among themselves as they were want to do. Hongjoong glanced at the sun, nearing the midday position, and wondered how violent a scolding he would receive if he simply dismissed the offending man. 

He wanted just a few moments of peace before the council meeting tonight. 

They paused at a bush of hydrangeas, Hongjoong smiling gently as he brushed gentle fingers over the petals. He truly did love the garden. It was just about the only place he felt peace here. 

Given that he was unaccompanied by warmongering advisors, of course. 

“Sire, we must strike first!” The man burst as if finally fed up with Hongjoong ignoring him. 

Hongjoong was silent for one more moment before sighing. He didn’t face the advisor, simply continued to watch the flowers shift in the breeze. “We will go to war when we are presented a reason to fight, Councilor. So far, the only evidence you have presented to me are rumors of villagers _perhaps_ _considering_ crossing our borders. Unarmed, untrained citizens. It’s hardly a war declaration, is it?” He asked cocking an eyebrow the man couldn’t see. 

“Sire, it may begin with unarmed citizens, but if we allow this, it will escalate into armies across our borders!” His face was a bright red with outrage, and Hongjoong remembered being a child, wondering how angry a man could get before popping like a paper ball among thorns. 

He scoffed, finally turning to acknowledge the man. “We would have weeks of advanced knowledge if something to that scale were occur.“

“ _ Sire- _ ” 

Distantly, there was a whistling that sounded like wind in the trees, but suddenly there was the familiar sensation of a guard’s body slamming into his and a sharp pain piercing across his arm, followed by a stinging across his cheek. 

There was the familiar  _ thuck _ of an arrow piercing wood, as he was accustomed to hearing during archery tournaments. But he barely registered it around the yelling filling his ears. The part of Hongjoong’s mind not paralyzed with shock was trying to focus on what was happening, but through the shouts and the rushing of blood in his ears, all he could discern was that there was another attempt. 

Four guards encircled him, practically dragging him across the garden as the others ran towards the far wall of the garden with shouts of “Don’t let him get away!” He risked a glance down at his shoulder that throbbed vaguely and saw a patch of red spreading across his blue robes. The sight made him a little queasy, so he lifted his eyes as the guards arrived safely within the palace walls. 

They didn’t stop moving, though, ushering him down the hall and shouting for servants and ladies in waiting to remove themselves from their path. Hongjoong didn’t bother trying to fight it, allowing them to bring him to his chambers and usher him inside, slamming the door shut firmly.

His bedroom was perhaps the most fortified room within the palace walls, but it did grow tiresome, being forced to wait within its bland walls for hours while guards hunted down whichever peasant or nobleman decided they tired of having this king. 

The attempts on his life were nothing new- they had begun well before he had taken his father’s place on the throne, but had only grown in number after he ascended to the throne. They were nothing unusual- the same sort of uprisings every king faced- but Hongjoong had long grown tired of them. 

He almost suspected they weren’t meant to kill him, but bore him to death with the uproar they caused within the castle. (An uproar that he, as the king, was not allowed to participate in. He was tucked away safely until they deemed the threat dispersed and the palace safe enough for him to return to freely walking around.) 

“Retrieve the physician,” one of the guards ordered, as the other bowed and rushed off. 

Hongjoong ignored the other three, walking to his bed and sitting on the edge, steeling himself once more before glancing down at his arm. The blood stain on his robes was bigger, but upon looking closer, he didn’t think the cut was very large. Certainly nothing life threatening (he knew the difference by now). His hand traveled up to his cheek, brushing against the small pain there, and he found a small trace of blood on his fingers. 

The guards remained within his room until he heard a gentle knock, and the door slid open, revealing Yunho with a his roll of tools. Hongjoong felt a weight leave his shoulders. “You may leave,” he told the guards who bowed and exited. He knew they were still outside the door, though. 

And they would remain there until the call was given that it was safe.

And then they would remain for every moment after that because this was the life Hongjoong lived. 

Yunho approached with his usual bright countenance. “Really, Your Highness, you could not wait until later in the day to cause such a fuss?” he asled, laying his tools on the table. “Some of us were in the middle of very interesting medical scrolls.” 

Hongjoong felt his lips twitch even as his shoulder twinged. “Had I known the assassin would be so inconsiderate, I surely would have remain inside, I assure you.” 

“I am sure,” Yunho said as he walked to the bed with his bandages and bottles of liquid. “I will have to remove part of your robe, Your Highness,” he said, sitting at Hongjoong’s wounded side. 

“By all means,” he replied easily, lifting a hand to undo the tie at his throat. Yunho maneuvered the robe so that half of the upper part fell off his shoulder, revealing his arm and part of his chest. Now that the clothing was gone, Hongjoong would tell that the cut was deep, but nothing serious. 

“It’s bled quite a bit,” Yunho said, picking up a cloth and wetting it as he carefully wiped away the blood stuck to his skin. “But it will only be an irritant for a few days, nothing more.” 

Hongjoong hummed, and the two fell into silence as Yunho poured a liquid that burned onto the cut and cleaned it. He remained silent through the sting, and Yunho wrapped it quickly and efficiently. Both of them had long become numb to this process. 

“It seems that the tail of the arrow cut your cheek,” Yunho muttered to himself, tilting Hongjoong’s head slightly to see better. “It’s hardly bleeding, and it’s too small to properly bandage. I’ll clean it, but it’s already nearly stopped bleeding.” 

The liquid stung less against his cheek, but by the time he was finished cleaning it, it didn’t hurt in the slightest. “There we are,” Yunho announced once his upper arm was bound tightly. “All fixed up and ready to cause trouble again.” 

Hongjoong smiled as Yunho gathered his things and returned them to his leather roll. “Thank you,” he said quietly. 

“What purpose do I have in this palace if not to keep you from vacating the throne early?” Yunho posed with a hidden grin. He turned, roll in hand, expression light, but eyes somber. “But do be careful, You Highness. You tend to treat these events lightly, but understand that they are a threat.” 

Hongjoong was not a fool. He understood that. However, he refused to live his life constantly looking over his shoulder. He would not die, afraid and paranoid, like his father. “I do take them seriously,” he said, voice low and sober. 

Yunho apparently did not need to hear more than that. He nodded, bowing low. “Then, I will return tomorrow morning to inspect the wound. Until then, please be safe, Your Highness.” 

Yunho exited with one more encouraging smile, and Hongjoong was left alone in silence. He sighed, lifting his hands (ignoring the twinge in his shoulder) and scrubbed at his face (careful of the cut on his cheek). He was tired, and considered taking a nap, knowing he would not be leaving this room until morning. 

The council meeting would be moved to tomorrow, most likely, which meant that Hongjoong’s previously duty-free day was now filled with hours of arguing and threats of violence. Joy. 

He stripped out of his bloodstained robe, leaving it on the floor and slipping into another, careful not to get the clean fabric dirty on the bloodied bandage. He kicked the other robe under the dresser and sighed heavily. 

He walked around his room (it was large enough to occupy himself for a time) and paused here or there to pick up a book or examine a map. He sat at his table, reading through a few correspondences from the council, the people, the noblemen… Dull, all of it, but infinitely better than sitting silently. 

There were footsteps outside his door after a time, and Hongjoong froze where he prepared to set a letter aside, his breath stalling in his chest. 

“Food for his majesty,” a familiar voice said. Hongjoong’s shoulders fell. There was a pause as the guards examined and ensured nothing dangerous was entering the room, and then the door slid open. 

“Food, Your Highness,” one of the guards said, waiting for either an allowance or a denial of entry. 

Hongjoong nodded sternly, and Jongho stepped in with a tray. He bowed upon entering, bringing the tray to the table and setting it down. 

Jongho glanced at him, hiding his amusement perfectly, but Hongjoong recognized the light in his eyes. “Don’t look so happy to see me, Your Highness.” 

Hongjoong tilted his nose into the air, turning his back on him. “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about, servant boy.” 

Jongho cocked an eyebrow, smirking barely noticeably. “You’re certainly bored in here. I’m sure you’ll have more visitors before the day is over, do not worry.” 

Hongjoong whipped around, heart leaping to his throat, but Jongho was already bowing and making his exit. 

For several minutes, Hongjoong was stationary, entire body strung tight like a wire, but then he finally allowed himself to relax a moment.  Jongho was just teasing, as he always did. He poked fun at Hongjoong’s expense. He didn’t actually  _ know _ anything. 

He ate only a little, and soon a woman appeared and took the tray away leaving him nothing to do once more. 

The sun sank lower outside, and he lit the candles around the room earlier than usual (just to have something to do) and he sat on his bed with a book in his lap, reading the words by the flickering candlelight that bathed the room in a warm glow. 

His ears pricked when he heard footsteps outside his bedroom, and he lifted his head quickly, holding his breath to hear through the door. “Books for His Highness,” he heard the familiar voice lilt. 

There was the bustle of checking, but then the door slid open. “The bookkeeper here with books for you, Your Majesty,” the guard informed him. 

Hongjoong’s mouth was dry. “Let him in,” He said evenly,  and then Seonghwa stepped inside, already bowing as he closed the door behind himself, two books clutched under one arm. Hongjoong straightened where he sat, expression severe. 

“More books for you, Your Highness,” Seonghwa declared, holding them aloft, voice polite and reserved. “Where would you like me to put them?” 

He lifted one hand (the one attached to his uninjured shoulder) and pointed to the table beside his bed. “You may sit them here, scholar.” 

Seonghwa bowed stiffly, walking over and placing the books on the bedside table, folding his hands in front of himself. “Is there anything else, Your Highness?”

Both of them were silent for a breath, ears hearing the guards speaking idly to each other outside. Hongjoong wet his lips. “Yes, I had question about the other books you brought yesterday.” 

Seonghwa’s shoulders relaxed minutely. “Certainly, Your Highness.”

“Come here,” Hongjoong beckoned, shifting the book off of his lap as his heart sped up. 

Seonghwa hesitated only a moment- head turning to watch the door- before he dropped his shoulders, rushing towards Hongjoong on silent feet that certainly couldn’t be heard outside. 

Hongjoong has barely removed his hands from his lap before Seonghwa was on him, legs falling against Hongjoong’s awkwardly, but strong, gentle hands cupped his cheeks and Seonghwa’s lips were on his. 

It was a fleeting kiss- desperate and deep. Hongjoong could barely keep up as Seonghwa worked his mouth open, tongues brushing against each other. He bent backwards slightly from the force of Seonghwa’s mouth, pushing back to meet him just as eagerly. Hongjoong opened his eyes just enough to see Seonghwa’s closed tightly- like he was bracing against something painful. 

He pulled away after only seconds, but only far enough to rest his forehead against Hongjoong’s, both of them panting but keeping their heavy breaths quiet. 

“ _ Hongjoong _ ,” Seonghwa whispered inaudibly, his voice pained, but he swallowed, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I heard about this morning,” he breathed, eyes trailing over his face and locking on the cut on his cheek. His expression was stricken as his hand shifted, long fingers ghosting against the wound, not even daring to touch it for fear of hurting him. “I couldn’t get away until now,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I tried to come earlier.” 

Hongjoong was breathing around a rock lodged in his chest as his hand came up to rest against Seonghwa’s on his cheek. “I was fine,” he assured him, leaning forward to capture his lips for only a moment before pulling away.  

“But  _ I  _ did not know that,” Seonghwa pressed quietly, the words passing between them like children with sweets trying not to be discovered. “I only gathered from whispers around the palace-“ 

“You know better than to listen to the gossip,” Hongjoong scolded, but his heart was light as he reached his other hand to brush the hair from Seonghwa’s eyes tenderly. “They will make a cut seem like a sword’s stroke. It was hardly something to be concerned with-” 

“Let me see,” Seongha requested, glancing over his shoulder at the door. 

Hongjoong sighed, but relinquished, unable to deny him anything, especially with their seconds slipping away before the guards wondered what a bookkeeper was doing for so long a time within the king’s chambers. He undid the tie around his neck, practiced hands sliding the left side of his robe off his shoulder, exposing the bandage with small specks of blood on it. 

He heard Seonghwa take a deep breath, gentle, intangible fingers reaching to brush over the cloth, his eyes dark with concern as he wet his lips. “Does it hurt you?” he questioned quietly. 

“Barely at all- even if I move it,” Hongjoong assured him. Seonghwa met his eyes, searching for a lie, and Hongjoong lifted a hand to touch his cheek gently. “You do not need to worry for me, Seonghwa,” he whispered assuredly. 

“I have every reason to worry for you,” Seonghwa returned, lips pressing together tightly as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against the other’s, eyes closing. “I am glad you are safe,” he breathed. 

Hongjoong couldn’t stop the way it brought a smile to his lips, peaceful and quiet as the two of them simply rested against each other, breathing each other in and basking in their presence. “I’ve missed you,” Hongjoong admitted, and Seonghwa chuckled, hand seeking out the other’s and tangling their fingers together tightly. 

“I would have been here yesterday,” he assured him, “but you had too much to do around the palace.” 

Hongjoong sighed, pressing his forehead more firmly against the other. “Do not remind me,” he begged. “Tomorrow will be horrendous for my spirit.” 

Seonghwa smiled apologetically, pressing his lips to his lazily, unhurriedly, as if they had all the time in the world (they did not) and had no worries but how long they could survive on breathing only each other. “I would sneak in, if you wish,” Seonghwa offered, eyes curious and hesitant. It was an offer than was made many times before. 

Hongjoong met it with the same answer: “No,” he whispered firmly, shaking his head gently. He touched Seonghwa’s cheek. “I would not risk it.” 

“I would,” Seonghwa insisted. “I have not seen you in days.” 

The game of charades they played with their lives was dangerous enough, but if Seonghwa were caught  _ sneaking  _ into the king’s chambers… Hongjoong suppressed a shiver that threatened the shake him.

“We will see each other again soon,” he promised, though he was careful not to give an exact time. Neither of them could possibly know that information. 

Both of them fell still as the guard’s paused their conversation outside the doors. Hongjoong’s arms tightened around Seonghwa, as if daring someone to attempt to separate them, but then the conversation resumed, and both of them relaxed. Seonghwa lowered his head, taking a deep breath. “I have to go,” he whispered. 

In the beginning, Hongjoong had fought him, had begged for just a few more moments of stolen time together, but he had long since learned that that was too dangerous a game to play. He nodded slowly, though neither moved away from each other. 

“We will see each other soon,” Seonghwa murmured, as if reassuring himself rather than the king. He lifted Hongjoong’s hand and brushed his lips over his knuckles. 

Hongjoong wasn’t satisfied with that, though, and used a gentle hand to lift Seonghwa’s chin and close the distance between them. Seonghwa, at the gentle invitation, pressed against him, but it was not the hurried, desperate kiss of earlier- but calmer, smoother, and infinitely more breathtaking for Hongjoong who curled his fingers into Seonghwa’s robes and begged all the gods he knew for just a few more moments. But then the heat of Seonghwa’s body pulled away from him, and Hongjoong silenced the cry of frustration that built in his chest as Seonghwa half-stood, Hongjoong’s hands still clasped in his own. 

Seonghwa stared at him, eyes saying he had something on his mind, but he closed his mouth, leaning down and pressing one more kiss to Hongjoong’s forehead- like a parent bidding their child goodnight- before pulling away and releasing his hands. All of Hongjoong felt cold. 

But he knew that every pain that grabbed him at Seonghwa’s departure was a hundredfold worse for the other, who actually had to force himself to move further away. Hongjoong did not know that he would have the strength to do it. He swallowed thickly as Seonghwa gathered the old books Hongjoong had long since finished into his arms and turned back as he reached the door. 

He didn’t dare say anything so close to the guards, but he simply bowed low, lifted his head with a heavy expression. “Good evening, Your Highness. I pray you remain safe in these times.” 

Hongjoong wanted to tear the words from his lips- they didn’t belong there. Seonghwa’s mouth had no business with cold, formal words after all the warmth that had passed between them. But Hongjoong simply nodded stiffly, afraid to open his mouth and have today be the day he lost his self-control and said something they would both regret. 

“Thank you for your services,” he replied, the rote words dripping off his tongue like acid as Seonghwa nodded, opening the door and slipping out. 

Hongjoong was left alone, and even if his shoulder ached, it was nothing compared to the vice that gripped his heart. “Return to me soon,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure if it was a prayer or a plea or a bargain, but he said it all the same, lowering his head and pressing his palms to his eyes. 

It was getting harder and harder to allow Seonghwa to leave after only a few moments with him. The same way it had become increasingly impossible to hold back his affections each time Seonghwa had visited his chambers to deliver books and essays to the king.

Hongjoong used to pretend to be the world’s largest fool, just to have Seonghwa remain and explain the writings he brought.

Seonghwa did so without complaint, but Hongjoong truly could not hear a word as he focused on the man’s voice, and heard nothing of what he said. 

Each of these visits was more painful the longer they suffered without a chance to see each other, and Hongjoong was sure one of them would soon break from the harsh treatment of their hearts. Seonghwa now gone, Hongjoong found no reason to remain awake in this boring hell, and set his books aside, changing into his sleeping garments, and laying in the bed silently, staring at the ceiling. 

If he closed his eyes, and used every ounce of willpower, he could almost imagine what it might feel like to have Seonghwa beside him- the heat from his body warming the other half of the thick blankets, the lithe arms from carrying books wrapping around his waist and holding him close. He desires hacing another body within this sea of a bed, something to anchor him during the long nights where all he could think of was the impending doom of his nation that he may wrought. 

But all he had was cold blankets, empty sheets, and a heavy chest. It was almost worse when they stole moments together because it made being alone that much more unbearable. But Hongjoong would take the pain over losing those moments in a heartbeat. He wrapped himself up firmly, one pillow shoved between his arms as he closed his eyes. 

Hongjoong did not sleep for many hours, still, and when he did, it was fitful and haunted with dreams of crucial mistakes and long hallways that he never got any further along.

 

~~~~~

 

 

“-And so Your Grace, we firmly believe that especially in light of these recent attacks, it would be prudent to strike first before any other offenses can be made.” 

Hongjoong blinked, his mind snapped back to the matter at hand. Fifty people sprawled throughout the Royal Hall before his throne. His eyes traced over the Councilor bowed while addressing him, and took a breath to regain his thoughts. The entire room waited for his response. 

“As I have said repeatedly throughout my reign,” he said, voice echoing in the silent room, “I will not attack anyone until I have reasonable cause. These attempts on my life are unrelated to the war you are attempting to start.” He should stop there, but the annoyance in his chest prompted him further. “We have had six years of peace since my father’s death,” he stated firmly. “I will not see that ruined simply to quell your thirst for preemptive violence.” 

He saw the Councilor’s expression twitch, but he dared not say anything as he simply bowed lower, returning to his spot in line. Hongjoong casted a glance around the room and he saw Seonghwa standing among the scholars with their scrolls and books. Their eyes did not meet as Hongjoong moved along, stopping on one of the Ambassadors. 

“Ambassador Lee,” he called, and the man stepped forward with a low bow. “How are the food supplies for the border villages?” 

“Withstanding, Your Highness,” he assured him quickly. “We believe that they will have enough stored by winter’s first frost.” 

Hongjoong nodded firmly. “Excellent.” There was a beat of silence where no one spoke. “Well, then,” he said, limbs aching from sitting in one place for the passed uncountable hours, “if there is nothing else for us to discuss, we shall-” 

“Pardon, Your Highness,” one Councilor spoke up quickly, stepping forward without lifting his eyes from the ground. “But there is one remaining issue to discuss.” 

Hongjoong paused, lifting an eyebrow, but when the man didn’t go on, he gestured casually. “Go on, then.” 

The man wet his lips, glancing behind himself nervously at the other noblemen and cleared his throat. “Well, Your Highness, we have discussed among the council and among the noblemen, and we agreed that it is perhaps time to bring up a, perhaps, sensitive topic.” He coughed again, and Hongjoong’s fingers curled into fists beneath his robes. “This year, you will reach your twenty fifth birthday, Sire,” he said, voice a little stronger. “And we thought it was perhaps time to begin considering courtship.” 

Hongjoong’s stomach disappeared, though he showed nothing on his face. “Courtship?” His voice echoed in the room, and he pointedly did not give in to the temptation to seek out Seonghwa’s eyes. 

“Yes, Sire,” he said. “For a queen to rule beside. To produce an heir.” 

The hall was silent. Hongjoong would swear there was a hurricane outside the walls with the roaring in his ears. He felt ill, but he simply hummed once, disinterested, as he stood from the throne. “There is nothing to discuss here,” Hongjoong declared, surprised by the ice in his own voice. “I have no need of a queen to rule with, and there will be no courtship for any reason. This council is dismissed.” He stepped away from the throne, but jerked to a stop when an Ambassador called from across the room. 

“What of an heir?” he demanded, though kept his eyes averted. “What if you were to suffer the same fate as your father? There  _ must  _ be someone to take the throne if-” 

“You forget your place,  _ Ambassador _ ,” Hongjoong snapped, and the man quickly stepped back within his ranks, eyes on the floor. There was anger boiling in his veins. He did not meet Seonghwa’s eyes. “My word on this is final, and I shall say  _ no more  _ of it.” 

He turned, robes trailing behind him as he exited the hall quickly. People bowed in the halls as he left, but he didn’t even bother to glance their way, rushing down the halls until he was safely within the privacy of his own chambers. The guards who followed him were met with a door slamming in their faces as Hongjoong paced about the room, agitated and feeling like his body was trying to crawl out of his skin. 

Courtship. A queen.  _ An heir-  _

He swallowed a scream as he sat upon his bed, staring at his hands that were tense and curled into fists. An heir. With  _ a queen-  _

He had to move around. He couldn’t stop or he would think of it, and if he thought of it, he would not stop the curses resting in the bottom of his throat. 

He would not, he told himself sternly. He would not risk it. They had discussed only last night the need to be careful. Hongjoong would not endanger everything. 

Only minutes later, the room once large enough to encompass his nerves was too claustrophobic.  _ Caution be damned _ . He went to the door, throwing it open and stepping out. Four guards stood at attention, and Hongjoong knew he could not operate with all of them. 

“I need only one of you,” he said firmly, words leaving perhaps a bit too quickly. He searched their eyes, chest unwinding only a touch at the familiar face among them. He pointed to one. “You,” he ordered. “With me. The rest of you, remain here, I will return shortly.” 

The other three nodded, but the fourth, by the name of Mingi if Hongjoong’s memory served him, followed behind him, having no trouble keeping with his pace. “I have matters to discuss with the scholars,” he said as they passed through the halls once more. “You may remain outside the room. I will call if I need you.” 

“Of course, Your Highness,” he responded, deep voice echoing in the halls. 

The scholars’ rooms were up in towers, with their astrology and telescopes and moon charts. After a council meeting, all of the scholars would be within the library, returning to their duties. However, the head scholar and bookkeeper would have returned to the tower, to his own chambers, in order to record the statements of the meeting. 

They reached the door to the tower, and Hongjoong held a hand out, signaling for Mingi to halt. “I will only be a few minutes,” he said, mouth drying as Mingi nodded, standing straight within the hall. Hongjoong turned to the door, knocking only once before pushing it open. 

He entered with his head high, as he heard Seonghwa’s belated call to enter. He shut the door gently, looking around the room. Windows covered each wall, giving view of the afternoon sky, with telescopes and star maps everywhere. Scrolls and delicate books were stuffed onto shelves against two of the walls- half covering the windows there. 

Seonghwa sat at a desk, frowning at a page with symbols Hongjoong only barely recognized, his inked brush hovering as his eyes flitted back and forth across the page. His brow was furrowed in concentration, eyes sharp and looking for some detail he was missing. It was an expression Hongjoong had learned well. 

He remained silent in the doorway, until Seonghwa seemed to realize whoever had entered was not speaking. He glanced up, still frowning. “What can I-” He choked off as he caught sight of Hongjoong, standing so quickly, he almost upset his ink plate. “Hongjoong-” He cut himself off, head whipping around to ensure there was no one around to hear the name that could have him thrown in prison ( at best). He turned back to him, hands braced on his desk, eyes wide. “What are you doing here?” he hissed, looking torn between panicked and relieved. 

“Can the king not visit the head scholar and bookkeeper to inquire about matters discussed at a council meeting?” he questioned, stepping forward leisurely. Seonghwa looked around once more, seeming to lean more towards panicking than being relieved. 

“Hongjoong, we cannot be seen here. Yeosang could return any moment,” he whispered. Within the hidden walls of Hongjoong’s chambers, they were safest, but out here in the open- it was something dangerous to attempt. 

And suddenly, Hongjoong felt guilt settle in where the itch to  _ move  _ had been. Would he endanger Seonghwa further, simply because he was upset at the mention of marrying? Would he cross so many lines they had drawn- simply on the fancy of being angry? The itch under his skin began to die as his muscles unclenched their vices. 

“I-” He stopped. “I apologize,” he said, voice still strong. “The council meeting was an... . irritant for me,” he confessed. His voice dropped as guilt burned the back of his throat. “I’m sorry. I should not have come.” He turned on his heel, prepared to suffer alone in his chambers, but a warm hand caught his wrist, pulling him to a stop and turning him back around. 

“Wait,” Seonghwa begged quietly, glancing around yet again. “Why did you come? What has upset you so?” 

And Hongjoong hated how weak he was before the other man. How quickly all the anger and itching dispersed before his voice. He swallowed, stepping closer to the other. “You already know what caused this.” 

And Seonghwa did not play the fool. His expression was sober as he searched Hongjoong’s face for an answer Hongjoong didn’t know how to give. “You are under no obligation as a king to marry,” Seonghwa comforted, hand reaching up to touch his face, but hesitating before dropping back to his side. They could not risk anything out here. “Aside from pressure from the council, you have nothing to obligate you into marriage.” 

“What of an heir?” Hongjoong demanded quickly, voice never raising. “Am I to leave the whole nation with nothing after my death? Am I to marry simply to ensure my people’s lives?” 

And Hongjoong felt like an ass. An absolute speck of despicable  _ dirt  _ to pose such a question to Seonghwa. It was not a fair question- it was not one Seonghwa should ever have to consider. 

Because if he answered yes, as common sense and tradition ordered him to, he admitted to allowing Hongjoong to be with another. If he answered no, he kept Hongjoong for himself but doomed the nation to fall into political unrest at his passing. And Seonghwa already grappled with guilt and duty every day of their meetings. 

Hongjoong quickly pulled his hand free. “Do not answer that,” he commanded weakly. “That was not meant to-” 

But Seonghwa’s hand on his arm turned him back, and Hongjoong hadn’t even taken a breath before Seonghwa kissed him- soft and quickly- barely of brush of lips, but it was enough to render him speechless as he quickly pulled away, glancing around them. “This is not a decision to be made in a single moment,” he comforted gently. “It is something you must consider carefully. Do not let it torment you now.” 

And Hongjoong wanted to fall back into him, to ignore the rest of the world and live with only the two of them, forever. The only thing that kept him from actually completing these ridiculous fantasies was the knowledge that he would be endangering Seonghwa, and he could not do that. 

Were Hongjoong caught fraternizing with a mere bookkeeper, he would be disgraced, but nothing would come of it. His reputation would be tarnished, but it could be rebuilt after years of good behavior. Should Seongha be caught in anything but a respectable position with the king… his life was forfeit without trial, without question. 

“I must go,” Hongjoong said after a lengthy pause. “I’ve been gone too long already.” 

Seonghwa nodded, expression apologetic. “Do not allow yourself to be burdened by all this,” he begged. “Spend time in the garden today. Find some peace somewhere, hm?” He reached up quickly to brush at a strand of hair on Hongjoong’s forehead, lowering his hand back to his side. “Goodbye, Your Highness.” 

And Hongjoong was faced with just a taste of what Seonghwa experienced each time he pulled himself away from Hongjoong’s chambers as he exited back into the hall. It was agony. 

Mingi escorted him back to his chambers where the other guards awaited. Hongjoong entered and remained there, that itch returning to his skin, but he forced it down, occupying himself with whatever else he could think of. His head ached at the base of his neck, and he laid down, attempting to relax, but all that came was an energy that wouldn’t disperse. 

Out in the garden, it was better as he followed the trail, the four guards behind him, and took several deep breaths that filled his lungs with the scent of earth and blossoms. He crossed the small bridge that hovered over the stream, gazing down at the koi that swam peacefully. It was all so calm, so comforting… The trickling of the water, the hypnotizing movements of the fish, the ripples of the pond- 

 

_ Hongjoong was not supposed to be outside, especially not this late at night. His guards were still at his door, oblivious to the king who had snuck out of the window and crept into the garden. Perhaps he was being foolish, perhaps it was selfish. He was king now (the thought still made his chest ache with sadness at memories that seemed too faded for how recent they were) and he had more responsibility riding on his shoulders than ever before.  _

_ But the suffocation he felt pressing on him from every side of his entourage, from every prolonged bow that made him flinch, from the weight of the royal crown sitting atop his head-  _

_ It was enough to drive any man mad. So, rather than losing his mind, Hongjoong found solace in the one place he was free to exist: the garden. At midnight, it was completely dark, save for the moonlight that gave him enough sight to walk by. He followed the familiar steps he had hopped along since childhood and found his way to the small bridge by the stream.  _

_ There was not enough light to see passed the darkness of the water, but the sound of it was calming enough that Hongjoong felt his eyes fall closed as he listened. He breathed out a sigh of contentment, shoulders falling as he crossed his arms on the railing, letting it take his weight.  _

_ He heard quiet footsteps, and stiffened, head snapping up, but at the other end of the bridge, all he saw was Seonghwa standing, a gentle smile upon his lips. Hongjoong straightened, heart slowly climbing to his throat as the man approached slowly, his skin and hair bathed in moonlight that made him seem ethereal.  _

_ (They were younger then, more carefree, wilder. Willing to take risks they would soon learn were not worth it- would never be worth it.)  _

_ “I thought you would not come again,” Seonghwa chuckled quietly. “You said before was the last time.”  _

_ Hongjoong swallowed, turning to face him fully. “Before, I had better faith in my abilities to remain sane. Reality has proven me false yet again.”  _

_ Seonghwa paused a step before him, still smiling angelically, and Hongjoong wasted no more time, surging forward and letting their bodies and lips fall together. Seonghwa held him tightly, and it was such an addictive feeling- just the sensation of being held- that Hongjoong felt his heart swell until it hurt.  _

_ Hongjoong traced his hands along Seonghwa’s body- gentle and caressing and curious- just wanting to feel him, touch him, fulfill all the touch deprivation he was starved on in his absence. “Slow down,” Seonghwa murmured against his lips, fingers holding him tight enough to bruise, but never painfully. “We have time, Hongjoong.”  _

_ And  _ God _ , just having someone who could say his name- someone who saw him as himself, who left behind titles of Your Highness, Your Grace, Your Majesty-  _

_ Hongjoong’s breathing got a little shorter as he pushed against Seonghwa more, seeking more, seeking the one person in his god forsaken life who cared for him. Seonghwa allowed him all the freedom he desired, simply adjusting his grip or shifting their bodies to be comfortable. Hongjoong felt something sharp creeping up his throat as he pushed for more, one hand bracing on the back of Seonghwa’s neck and pulling him closer- He was never close enough-   _

_ Why had no one warned him that being a king was so incredibly lonely?  _

_ Hongjoong didn’t even realize he was crying until he tasted the salt between their lips. He didn’t stop though, still chasing that feeling of being held, of being touched, of being cared for.  _

_ It was Seonghwa who pulled away, frowning in confusion at the wetness on his lips, and his expression fell as he saw the tears on his cheeks. He looked ready to say something, but Hongjoong didn’t want him to speak. He kissed him again, but Seonghwa pulled away. “Hong-” Hongjoong kissed again, more desperate, trying to get something that could stop the ache in his chest that just kept getting bigger.  _

_ Seonghwa finally braced his hands on his arms, pushing Hongjoong away and keeping a hold on him to ensure his distance. He finally stopped pushing, breathing heavily as he could barely see through blurred vision and hot tears. Seonghwa’s expression was strained. “Hongjoong,” he whispered, one arm releasing him to come up and brush the wetness away.  _

_ Just the uttering of his name made them fall harder and Hongjoong sucked in a shaking breath as he pushed forward once more, but Seonghwa allowed him, until his head dropped to Seonghwa’s chest. “Hold me,” he demanded weakly, a last attempt to chase that feeling. “Please, I don’t need anything else, just-”  _

_ He broke off as Seonghwa crushed him against his chest, like he was trying to fuse the two of them together. Hongjoong breathed in his scent- of ink and papers and leather- and the tears fell quicker. Seonghwa did nothing but hold him, one hand carefully stroking at his hair, lips pressing to the top of his head occasionally. It would be uncomfortable- his arms pinned and his body immobile, but Seonghwa was so warm and it seeped into Hongjoong’s chest until it no longer ached so badly.  _

_ The stream babbled on behind them, but Hongjoong could only hear his own harsh breathing and Seonghwa’s heartbeat through his robes. The desperation in his chest died off with each beat of his heart against his ear, and soon Hongjoong could breathe without feeling a stitch in his side.  _

_ God, it felt indescribable just to be held. When was the last time someone had touched him since he became king? He swallowed thickly. “Thank you,” he breathed against his chest.  _

_ Seonghwa hummed, the sound echoing in his ear and making him shiver. “Are you alright?”  _

_ He nodded. “Yes, but- Just- Stay like this,” he begged, not ready to pull away just yet.  _

_ Seonghwa nodded reassuringly. “We have all night,” he whispered. “I have no objections to having you in my arms for hours.”  _

_ Hongjoong’s throat closed up, and he said nothing. Seonghwa had been there in all his weakest moments- the ones that Hongjoong’s pride would not allow to see the light of day. They did not mention these moments, and they grew fewer in number the longer his status as king held true.  _

_ They did not remain all night, but by the time he felt the strength to pull away, his limbs were heavy and useless as Seonghwa pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, walking him back to his window, and bidding him goodnight before disappearing into the darkness.  _

 

Hongjoong turned away from the water, his stomach flipped at the memory, and quickly moved on. He would find no peace here if he only thought of every memory he and Seonghwa shared here. It was the ultimate irony, that he could find no peace with Seonghwa, but found nothing but agony without him. 

A councilor approached him timidly, reporting that it was time for an audience with some of the noblemen from the countryside. Hongjoong abandoned all hope of finding peace today, and went to the audience. One day, he assured himself (lied to himself). One day, he would find peace and all would be well. 

  
  


~~~~~

 

Seonghwa gained news that the king required a book on crops for his royal address the following day. 

He thanked the message boy- San- and went about to find the specific book requested. Their evening in his chambers was days in the passed- nothing but a memory Seonghwa used to sustain himself as he went about his day, hearing nothing but news of the king but having no other connection to him. 

Seonghwa entered into the bookkeeping chamber and bid Yeosang good morning at his desk. His apprentice was quiet on the best of days, but Seonghwa had never met anyone more dedicated to learning. “What volume are you looking for, master?” he questioned in the spring-soft voice of his, already getting to his feet and walking to the shelves. 

“The king requires the most recent,” he said, also taking a scroll with secondary information that would prove useful to know (despite their relations, Seonghwa was a scholar and he did care about what information the king was given). 

Yeosang found it within seconds (Seonghwa could never find anything in this horrendous excuse for a system), and the boy passed him the book with a gentle smile. “I’m sure His Majesty will find it a very intriguing read.” 

And Seonghwa hesitated as he took it, brow furrowing imperceptibly as he searched Yeosang’s gentle face. But he found no malice or trickery there- just warmth and childishness. He took the book nodding, forcing down the half-panic that had risen to his chest. “I think not,” he disagreed evenly. “I’ve found he prefers writings on geography, rather than crop records.” He nodded in thanks and walked towards the door. 

“It is assured that were anyone to know the king’s preferences, it would be you, master.” 

Seonghwa whipped around, eyes wide, but Yeosang was already moving back towards his desk. When he glanced up and found his master still staring, he blinked in surprise. “Was there anything else you needed, master?” he asked. 

And once again, Seonghwa found nothing but innocence in his eyes- nothing suggestive or underhanded. He shook his head quickly, exiting the room before something else could ruin the warmth in his chest as he approached Hongjoong’s chambers. Yeosang was just an apprentice. He hardly looked up from his books all day. He could not possibly know anything- even  _ suspect  _ anything-  _ no one  _ could reasonably suspect anything. 

“Books, Your Highness,” the guards called into the room, and Seonghwa waited for the familiar call to enter, and he went about his charade of entering and bowing, and the moment the door was closed, and the guards occupied their ears with conversation, he set down the books, rushing to where Hongjoong sat at his little table on the floor and falling to his knees beside him. 

They played their familiar dance of desperate and slow, pushing and pulling, counting and counting the seconds that slipped by. Hongjoong’s lips were warm, and you would think Seonghwa needed this instead of air to breathe. 

It was fleeting, all too fleeting, and in the end, they just rested against each other, basking in their presence, Seonghwa resting his head against Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Has it healed?” he questioned, touching the fabric that covered where the bandage had sat. 

“Almost,” Hongjoong assured him, hands caressing his hair in feather-light touches. “The bandage is removed, but there is still a scab.” 

He hummed gently, glancing up and seeing only a thin white line to tell of the cut on his cheek. “I’m glad-” 

“I had thought over what you said,” Hongjoong broke in quickly, like he had suddenly remembered. Seonghwa lifted his head slightly, frowning as he tried to figure what Hongjoong was referring to. Hongjoong stared at him- eyes stern, in the same way he looked when addressing the Royal Hall, and Seonghwa straightened slightly under it. 

“What did I say?” he asked carefully. 

“About an heir.” Oh. That. Seonghwa controlled his facial expression well, if he did say so himself, but Hongjoong’s countenance said he saw straight through the attempt at calm. Seonghwa hated being known so well by another, sometimes. 

Because Seonghwa, as much as he tried to be impartial for Hongjoong’s sake, hated talk of queens and heirs. It was his duty and responsibility as head scholar to advise the king in certain matters, and any book or scroll would tell you that a king needed to marry as soon as possible to produce as many heirs as possible to ensure the survival of the nation and the bloodline. 

But damned if Seonghwa’s entire being didn’t crawl with discomfort at the thought of Hongjoong being with another. Of course, he could not actually say that. Seonghwa may not  _ encourage  _ Hongjoong to marry, but he could not bring himself to discourage it, either. 

How selfish could he be, attempting to ruin the future of a nation-  _ his  _ nation- purely out of jealousy for a lover he did not have any claim to? The choice was Hongjoong’s and it was one he had grappled with over and over through the years of his reign. Seonghwa hated the part of himself that stopped him from just telling Hongjoong to marry and get it over with. 

But if being apart from him for mere days was like coals against his skin, what would he do for a lifetime without him? 

“What about the heir?” Seonghwa questioned, already dreading the answer. Hongjoong’s heavy expression and hesitancy to speak candidly made him want to run before he could hear any part of it, but he was immobile beneath his stare that bore into Seonghwa’s gaze. 

“I’ve made a decision,” he said firmly. “And perhaps it’s a decision that should have been clear long ago, but I was… foolish, and pushed it off. I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I should not have made you wait this long for an answer.” 

Why did he sound so serious? Why did he not just speak it already? Seonghwa wanted to shake him, but he wanted more than anything to pull away, to save himself from the pain that the answer might hold. 

Hongjoong swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he said again, taking Seonghwa’s shaking hands in his gently. “I should never have even considered living a life that you were not the center of.” 

Seonghwa felt like he had broken through the surface of a lake, taking a breath of air after so long a time of drowning. He stared at Hongjoong dumbly, his mind hazy and numb as he begged that he had not misheard. 

He cleared his throat. “I will find another way,” he said firmly. “For an heir. I have no need for a queen. And I will do something- appoint a nobleman’s son, something else. I do not need a blood heir, but I do need you in my-” 

Seonghwa stopped listening, practically leaping forward and colliding with Hongjoong who swallowed down a loud yelp as the two of them fell back onto the floor. Seonghwa kissed him deeply, hands cupping his face tightly as his breath left him. 

Seonghwa never doubted his place in Hongjoong’s life. Not once- not when they went weeks without seeing each other, not when foreign princesses were brought with clear intentions- but he understood that Hongjoong fought a constant battle of his duty as king and his feelings as a human. Seonghwa never doubted that Hongjoong felt for him, but he knew that he may take a secondary position to what Hongjoong knew he must do as king. 

And to hear him say it- to use words to actually place Seonghwa above his duties- to state that he chose Seonghwa over every expectation of himself-

Hongjoong pulled away, trying to see Seonghwa’s expression. “Is this good?” He stared at him, and then his expression fell into something gentle. “Seonghwa,” he whispered tenderly, taking one hand and brushing it along his cheek, and Seonghwa was not surprised when it came away wet. “Are these good tears?” he questioned carefully. 

“ _ Yes _ , you fool,” Seonghwa practically sobbed, his heart light enough to float away. He kissed him again, warm and wet, and Hongjoong made a gentle noise in his mouth. Seonghwa pressed closer, hands pawing at his neck where the tie of his robes was. Hongjoong’s hands were everywhere- in his hair, along his sides, dragging down his chest, squeezing his hips- 

His hands slid up Hongjoong’s long sleeves, feeling his warm, smooth skin with fingers rough with use and papercuts. Seonghwa was rarely blessed with an opportunity to truly touch Hongjoong- usually bound to only brush his cheeks or neck due to the infernal robes that covered the rest of him. They would never have the time that would be needed to truly touch- but Seonghwa brushed along his arms, and felt Hongjoong shiver beneath him, responding to each of his touches in earnest, gasping into Seonghwa’s mouth and grasping at his arms for purchase. Even that small touch was more than they had ever been afforded. 

For once, Seonghwa did not count the seconds, lost in his own elation and joy. What did he care if someone saw? Hongjoong chose him. 

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong gasped in between breaths of the kiss. “Seonghwa- we-” He didn’t allow him even a moment, but Hongjoong persisted in attempting to ruin their little world. “Seonghwa- it’s been- too long- You have to- Go-“ 

Seonghwa sighed harshly, dropping his head to Hongjoong’s chest and clenching his robes in his fists. Hongjoong stilled at the sudden movement, his chest not even moving with breath as Seonghwa tried to rationalize leaving. It was like letting go of the one thing between you and falling off a cliff- why would you want to? It settled like a physical pain in his chest as he clenched his eyes shut and breathed harshly against his chest. 

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong asked gently, hand coming to stroke at his hair, but Seonghwa caught the hand and pulled it away to rest at his side. 

“Don’t,” he pleaded quietly, trying to breathe. “If you touch me right now, I will never leave you.” He heard Hongjoong swallow, and he steeled himself, releasing his robes and sitting up. He didn’t look at Hongjoong’s face. If he did, he would not have the strength to leave this time. 

Seonghwa always comforted himself when he left by stating he would see him again. Hongjoong would always be waiting for him. But Seonghwa was tired of waiting. He was tired of their only interactions being hushed, hurried kisses in the dark. He wanted more. 

He wanted to talk to Hongjoong. He wanted to hold him without feeling the need to steal some amount of physical affection. He desired a relationship that didn’t gravitate solely towards the physical. He and Hongjoong had been sneaking around for as long as Hongjoong had  been king, and Seonghwa could only remember ever simply  _ speaking  _ with him in those early years before they had to be careful. 

Seonghwa adored Hongjoong and his body- his lips and hands and neck and legs- but he wanted more than that. He didn’t just want Hongjoong’s body- he wanted his mind and soul and heart. And he knew he could have all the access to them he desired, if they simply had time together. 

Time without guards peeking into rooms, without people waltzing into Seonghwa’s tower, without servants snooping around for any amount of gossip… It was enough to drive Seonghwa mad. 

But he continued on. Because this Hongjoong was better than none, and Seonghwa loved to torture himself. So, he stood as Hongjoong sat up, expression stricken but trying to hide it. They both always tried to hide the pain, to save the other the guilt of leaving or being left, but it never worked. They knew each other too well. 

“Goodbye, Your Majesty,” Seonghwa whispered, unable to force more air out.He would usually steal one last kiss, leave them on a positive, sweet note, but his heart hurt too viciously. If he touched Hongjoong again, he would throw away years of patience and care that had been carefully built. So, he simply bowed, turning to the door. 

“Bookkeeper,” Hongjoong called, switching back into their roles as his voice raised high enough that it might be heard. 

Seonghwa jerked to a stop, teeth gritted as he turned to keep from running back to him. “Highness?” 

Hongjoong was half on his knees, staring at Seonghwa with dark eyes. 

“I will always choose you.” 

He didn’t raise his voice, and it dropped so low, Seonghwa had to read his lips to understand, and the words hit him like a physical blow. His vision blurred slightly, and Seonghwa had to leave  _ right now _ . He turned, pushing the door open and slipping out without a response. 

He flew down the halls, mindless to the servants who leapt out of his way. He needed to get away, get somewhere isolated. But he simply ran back to his tower, the only place he knew would give him solace. He tore the door open and almost threw himself inside, slamming the door and leaning against it. What he did not account for, was Yeosang still being here from earlier, leaping from his desk at the violent sound, eyes wide. 

Seonghwa ignored him, though, eyes shut tight to keep his emotions in check. 

It was getting harder. Harder to pull away, harder to let go once more. And that was dangerous. It was dangerous and foolish and Seonghwa was being  _ a fool _ . 

“Master?” Yeosang ventured quietly, carefully stepping out from behind the desk. “Are you-” He stopped himself, pausing by the desk. “Did the king say something?” 

Seonghwa wanted to laugh- bitter and dark- but he simply took a sharp breath. “I… am well,” he assured him, finally trusting himself to open his eyes. Yeosang stared at him in concern and confusion. “I apologize. Return to your reading.” 

“You have been crying.” It was not a question.  

Seonghwa shook his head, turning his back and walking towards his own desk. “It is not something I wish to discuss.” He sat, pulling whatever book was closest to himself, and pointedly ignoring Yeosang who continued to stand silently. 

At least, until, he opened his mouth once more. “One of the ambassadors came while you were gone. I told him you were occupied in the libraries.” 

“You know I was not in the libraries,” Seonghwa said, still not lifting his eyes. “The king summoned me to his chambers to deliver those books.” 

“I know that.” 

Seonghwa frowned, looking up finally. “Then why did you-” 

“I thought you would not want an ambassador attempting to intrude upon your time within the king’s chambers.” No malice, no hidden knife. Just facts. 

Seonghwa, however, felt as if he had been dunked in a stream in winter. “Those are very dangerous words with very dangerous implications, Yeosang,” he muttered darkly. 

Yeosang did not seemed cowed by these words. In fact, he straightened, face oddly serious for the gentle boy. “Master, I think-” He stopped, glancing around like a mirror image of Seonghwa. He turned back with stern eyes. “I often lie of your whereabouts,” he confessed. 

“And why would you do that?” Seonghwa asked, knuckles white on his brush. No. 

“Because I think it would look far worse for the answer to every question of ‘Where is your master?’ to be ‘In the king’s chambers.’” 

“What are you implying, Yeosang?” Seonghwa demanded, standing.  _ No _ . “And I suggest you choose your next words very carefully, for both of our sakes.” 

Yeosang was not intimidated. “What did the king do?” he questioned seriously. “Why are you in such a state? You have never appeared like this after seeing him.” 

“That is not your concern.” 

“Master-“ 

“Do not hide your intent, Yeosang,” he snapped, fear burning his chest. “Whatever you are implying, say it outright.”

Yeosang was silent, still, watching Seonghwa as if seeing if he would burst without prompting. He watched him calmly, which only made Seonghwa want to shake him, to force him to realize the power he was currently holding over Seonghwa at this moment. 

“Do you care for the king, Master?” Yeosang asked quietly, as if he cared if someone heard. Seonghwa did not answer. “Because anyone with a mind inside their heads… can see that you do.” 

Seonghwa did not know what he wanted to do. He expected world ending fear and suffocating panic and him losing his mind and yelling profanities at the unfairness of it all. 

Why should he suffer simply because his heart chose a king? 

But there was none of that. Only a cold numbness that washed over him. 

But Seonghwa did not lower his head. He lifted it, staring down at his apprentice with eyes that he hoped were brave enough to hide the shaking of his lungs. “And what do you plan to do about it?” Perhaps his voice was not the loudest, but it did not shake. “I am sure there are a number of royal guards wandering near these halls. They would likely reach me before I could make any substantial distance.” 

Yeosang scoffed. Seonghwa stamped down any sort of reaction. His apprentice stared at his master as if  _ he  _ were the insane one. “Master, I thought you knew me better than that. I, at least, would have the sense of mind to use such information for blackmail at the  _ very  _ least.” His lips twitched, almost in amusement, and Seonghwa still did not move, waiting for him to present his entire hand. Yeosang, seeing his discomfort, sighed, lips upturning. “I have no intention of revealing your secrets, Master, they are not mine to give. It would be foolish of me to hold a secret this long, only to reveal it now.” 

Seonghwa swallowed even as his head spun with relief. “This long?” 

Yeosang’s smile turned sympathetic. “My suspicions began long ago. But it did not take long to realize that there was… something substantial going on.” 

“Why did you not say anything?” Seonghwa snapped, the relief and fear mixing in his stomach painfully. “Why speak of it now?” 

“You came back upset,” he responded, voice gentle. “You have never returned from the king like that. It worried me- what he might have done to you….” 

He trailed off, and Seonghwa almost snapped at him for even insinuating that Hongjoong would ever do something against Seonghwa’s will- 

But he realized Yeosang did not know that. He knew none of the intimate details: all he knew was that Seonghwa was involved with the king and cared for him. He mentioned nothing of the king returning his feelings or Seonghwa’s willingness in the whole ordeal. So he bit his tongue, calmed himself, and let out a sharp breath. 

“I do not wish to speak of this for long. I will make this brief, so listen well.” Yeosang nodded once. “Everything I have done with the king is something that both he and I want. I have not been and will not be coerced into anything simply because of his station- not that he would attempt to do so in any matter. Hongjoong is not like tha-” 

“ _Hongjoong_?” Yeosang suddenly hissed, hands leaping to cover his mouth as his eyes widened. Seonghwa cursed the slip of his tongue. “You speak the king’s name?” he whispered harshly, stepping forward in shock. “Master, that is-” 

“It is not so insane if you knew our history,” he broke in sternly, perhaps a bit defensive. “I cared for him long before he came to the crown.” 

“You knew him as the Crown Prince?” Yeosang inquired, lowering his hands. “And you still called him by name?”

“If you knew him as I did, you would not be inclined to bestow him meaningless titles as well,” Seonghwa assured him. “And I believe calling the king by his name is the least of the crimes I am currently guilty of.” A silence followed his statement as Yeosang processed his shock. He swallowed. “And I trust I do not need to beg your discretion here...”

Yeosang shook his head, slightly somber. “If I have kept your secret this long, I have no reason to reveal it now.” 

Seonghwa nodded, some of the scare of earlier leaking from his skin. He wet his lips. “You said that anyone with a mind could tell I cared for the king…. Do others know?” 

His apprentice frowned, thinking hard. “I do not know for sure,” he said carefully. “Others do not know you as I do. Most cannot see how often you visit him- nor your face when your return-” (That was something Seonghwa was going to want an explanation on when they had more time.) “- and so it is impossible to tell. Perhaps some people may suspect something, but in the vast world of castle gossip, it is just another name tossed into scandal. It means nothing.” 

Seonghwa nodded, mind racing. He needed to see Hongjoong soon- to speak of this and discuss what it might mean (Seonghwa pointedly did not think of it). 

“You may want to sit, Master, before you fall to the floor.” 

He didn’t even process what was said- simply sank back into his chair, exhausted, but refusing to show it. “I am sorry if my knowledge causes you stress,” Yeosang said, stepping closer. “But I could not remain quiet about it after you returned here in such a state. King or not, I would not allow him to abuse you.” And they were brave words coming from a scholar’s apprentice- perhaps as treasonous as Seonghwa calling Hongjoong by name- and despite it all, Seonghwa felt a prickle of warmth in his chest at his concern. 

“I was completely fine,” Seonghwa assured him, but Yeosang moved to the front of his desk, leaning his palms upon it and staring at in with worry coating light eyes. 

“What did he do?” he demanded gently. “You looked as if you had cried.” 

Seonghwa averted his eyes, staring at his desk. “I doubt you want the intimate details of the king and I.” 

Yeosang’s eyes widened. “You have-” 

“No!” Seonghwa burst, glaring. “Keep your mind out of the filth,” he snapped, chest tightening. “I meant that many of these details are for Hongjoong and I-” 

(Another short gasp from Yeosang, and Seonghwa  _ needed  _ to watch his tongue.) 

“- but today… we discussed something. It was not bad. My tears were not ones of sadness… at least, not in the beginning. But they were not _bad_!” he pressed uselessly. “It is complicated Yeosang. More complicated than I could ever explain in a day. So, just know that they were not caused by any horrendous actions on the king’s part.” 

Yeosang still looked hesitant, but nodded slowly. “If you insist… I will trust you, Master.” 

The silence that fell between them was not heavy, but it was stifling. “Return to your work, Yeosang,” he ordered. “Just because you now hold the largest and most dangerous secret you will likely hold in your life does not give you a right to slack.” 

Yeosang chuckled knowingly- like there was something he knew that Seonghwa didn’t- but when he glanced up, Yeosang was already turned, moving to his desk. Seonghwa truly did fear for the men who worked with Yeosang and did not prepare for him. He could be a force to be reckoned with when he wanted to be, and he was as devious as one could be without stepping over the line to con man. 

Seonghwa blamed that Wooyoung stable boy who was often seen begging Yeosang to read him books in his free time. Yeosang indulged him, much like Seonghwa had indulged the apprentice when he first brought him in and taught him to record and understand. They were harmless, but Wooyoung was very persuasive when he urged Yeosang to do something fun with him when their little lessons were over. 

“So he is kind?” Yeosang asked after a spell. Seonghwa glanced up, but his apprentice’s eyes still remained on his books. “The king, that is?” 

He wanted to laugh because Seonghwa could wax poetics about Hongjoong for days and months and years before running out of ways to describe him. “Kind” did not begin to cover every piece of warmth that Hongjoong carefully gave to Seonghwa with each interaction they hid. The risk he took for him, the sacrifices he made to be with him- “kind” seemed like a ugly word compared to everything that Hongjoong was to him. 

Seonghwa’s mouth was a little dry as his heart ached slightly. “Yes,” he answered quietly, staring at the pages whose words floated passed him meaninglessly. “Yes, he is very kind.” 

Yeosang hummed. “Well, if you were going to fall for someone within the palace, you could not do much better for your station than the king himself.” 

Seonghwa looked up, blinking, and Yeosang caught his eye with an impish grin, playful and bright as usual. Seonghwa let out a truly pathetic laugh, shaking his head as his lips twitched. Perhaps it did feel… freeing to have someone who knew, despite the danger that brought. 

And truly, if there were anyone he would trust to protect that secret, it would be Yeosang. He chuckled, and Yeosang laughed again, both of them perhaps a little giddy with the rush of emotions that had been surging through them in the passed ten minutes. 

“He will be the death of me,” Seonghwa asoured him, picking his brush up once more. “But it would be the most beautiful death anyone has ever seen.” 


	2. The Weight of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know this is really quick but don’t expect the other chapters this quick. I have a lot of free time lately and this chapter is mostly fluff, is a lot shorter, but also has some very important plot tid bits!  
> From here on, there will be a lot more plot though so hold on for that!

Seonghwa gazed out the window in his tower, high above the courtyard and hidden so that none that looked up would ever see him. His eyes were on the small crowd walking around the courtyard. 

Hongjoong stepped lightly, arms behind his back regally as a nobleman from the North spoke with him about something Seonghwa had never been privy to. There was a train of guards and councilors behind them, and he sighed, leaning on his fist as he watched from afar. 

The afternoon light shone bright off of Hongjoong’s red robes, the colors making his hair seem much lighter than it was. 

“Honestly, Master,” Yeosang’s voice came, and Seonghwa whipped around the find his apprentice clutching scrolls to his chest as he closed the door behind him. “All this time, I thought you simply liked to stare off into nothing, but you were looking at him the entire time, weren’t you?” He made a face similar to one about to be violently ill. “Master, truly you are a lovesick fool.” 

Seonghwa raised a threatening hand that never fell as Yeosang returned to his desk. “I told you not to speak of it,” he muttered, turning back to the window. The group had taken refuge under a broad tree. 

“We are alone,” Yeosang said, waving a dismissive hand. “But you will be late on putting together those charts if you do not stop staring and start working.” 

But it was easier said than done. Something big was happening, and even Seonghwa as the head scholar was not privy to it. Only the councilors and ambassadors seemed to know anything of what was going on. And because of that, Hongjoong’s time was monopolized by unending meetings and audiences with people from across the kingdom.

Seonghwa had attempted to glean some information, but he only knew that if they were communicating with their isolated royals from the North, something extremely delicate must be going on. 

He didn’t like it, though, being kept from the inner circle. 

A butterfly floated around the tree, searching for flowers, and he saw Hongjoong turn from the man speaking to watch it flutter passed, his expression carefully controlled in the presence of others, but the light in his eyes was visible even from such a distance. Seonghwa felt his heart twist in the most amazing way as he watched. 

“You truly miss him…don’t you?” Seonghwa stiffened at Yeosang’s hesitant words and didn’t turn, continuing to stare. 

“More than you could possibly understand,” he confessed under his breath, sure that Yeosang could not hear him. 

“When did you see him last?” Yeosang questioned quietly. 

“Not since you revealed what you knew.” More than seven entire days since Seonghwa had seen him in any way but through a window or passing in halls surrounded by councilors. It was not the longest they had ever gone, but they had gotten better at finding time together, and constantly hovering near each other in the same palace but never crossing paths was horrendous. 

The entourage in the courtyard made their way inside, and Hongjoong once again passed out of Seonghwa’s sight. He sighed heavily, pushing off of the sill of the window and stepping back towards his desk, ignoring the pointed gaze from Yeosang. 

“Master-” 

“I do not want to hear it,” Seonghwa said, staring at the papers he pulled towards himself. 

“You cannot know what I was about to say!” Yeosang exclaimed, indignant. 

“I know that it involved the king and, therefore, I do not wish to speak about it.” 

Yeosang sighed, and Seonghwa was foolish enough to believe he had gone back to work. Then there was the sound of a brush being set on its resting stone. “I could give you privacy.” 

Seonghwa huffed a gentle laugh, shifting his papers. “I can assure you, Yeosang, my feelings will not reduce me to the tears of a maiden. I have no need for you to give me privacy.” 

“Master… I was referring to you and the king.” 

Seonghwa frowned, lifting his head slowly to stare at Yeosang who was watching him with a carefully controlled countenance. “Pardon?” 

Yeosang nodded. “The king could come here,” he explained. “The only person who enters here is me. And anyone else who would potentially intrude, I can simply misdirect them elsewhere.” 

Seonghwa stared at Yeosang, awaiting his burst of laughter and declaration that he had come up with such a ridiculous idea, but his apprentice simply continued to watch him earnestly, as if this were a viable option. “Yeosang… it would take me days to list the reasons why that would not work.” 

“Why?” he challenged, tilting his head. “What about it would not work?” 

“First of all,” Seonghwa scoffed in disbelief, his brush falling from his grip, “no one may come in search of me, but I am fairly sure the guards who follow the king around like a plague would question his elongated presence in my chambers.” 

“He is allowed to venture for a time with only one,” Yeosang assured him. “Mingi told me so.” 

He frowned, mind tracing back through the people at the palace he knew by name. He knew most all of Hongjoong’s guards.  A tall, lanky guard came to mind. “How do you know Mingi?” he demanded. Yeosang had no reason to interact with Hongjoong’s guards. 

“Jongho is friends with him.” 

The kitchen boy in charge of bringing Hongjoong’s food. “Why do you know Jongho?” Seonghwa was fairly sure Yeosang didn’t even know where the kitchens were. 

“Wooyoung is friends with him.” 

Seonghwa cocked an eyebrow, and Yeosang quickly lowered his eyes to stare at his desk. “I am simply saying,” he said firmly, “that the king could take just one guard- Mingi- when he came. Mingi would not betray you.” 

Seonghwa couldn’t help but laugh. “But he would certainly understand that something were going on!” Yeosang peeked up through his bangs from his books, and Seonghwa’s stomach disappeared. “Yeosang,” he warned. 

“I said nothing to him!” Yeosang assured him quickly, expression twisting. “But when you are brought up, it is easy to tell who suspects things! Mingi was with the king when he entered this tower before. He heard nothing, he  _ knows  _ nothing, but it is not hard to connect events.” 

The panic that had been slowly building in the back of Seonghwa’s mind was completely released and he suddenly found he couldn’t breathe, leaning forward to rest his head against his desk as he struggled to get oxygen. He heard his apprentice stand slowly. First Yeosang, now Mingi. And if Mingi spoke often with Jongho, then he may know, and what was stopping Wooyoung from finding out- 

If so many had their suspicions- 

Seonghwa felt ill. “I have to stop seeing him,” he whispered, eyes burning as he pressed a hand to his chest. It burned and hurt in the worst possible way. Seonghwa was sure it would be easier to impale himself on a sword than even think of it, but it slipped out all the same. 

“What?” Yeosang questioned, directly beside him now. 

“Hongjoong,” he whispered. “I have to stop seeing him for a while.” 

“ _ What _ ?” he demanded, taking a hand and forcing Seonghwa to sit up, staring at him in shock. “ _ Why _ ?”

Seonghwa knocked the hand off of his shoulder, anger meeting Yeosang’s demands. “Do you not understand, Yeosang?” he snapped, standing and forcing the younger to take a step back. “This is not some game to play to pass the time! It is not an event that you can join in for fun! This is Hongjoong and my lives on the line! Trusting even you with this information is quite possibly the stupidest thing I could have done!”

Yeosang blinked, a flicker of hurt in his eyes before he shoved it down. “I would not allow you to be revealed-” 

“If Mingi and every other person in this palace suspects something, we already have been!” he burst, the panic threatening to tear his chest open. “Even one person suspecting is too many!” His voice suddenly dropped as he sucked in a breath that didn’t seem to provide any release to the knot in his lungs. “We have been careless,” he muttered, turning away and running a hand through his hair. “We have been together too often, too openly. I need to contact him and tell him-” He coughed so his voice would not falter. “Tell him we need to remain apart for a time, until suspicions die down.” 

“You do not need to do that!” Yeosang pressed firmly. “None outside of a few even suspect-” 

“That is already too many!” 

“Would they not have turned you in already if they were going to?” Yeosang demanded. “I know Wooyoung would never- not even if you were to tell him outright. And if he has Mingi and Jongho as his friends, they are vouched for as well! None of them will expose you, I swear.” 

Yeosang did not understand. And Seonghwa didn’t think he was capable of making him. There was no words- angry nor calm- that would ever amount to the utter terror in Seonghwa’s chest at the very thought that someone were to find out. Terror at what would happen to them- to Hongjoong- 

Hongjoong always tried to act like Seonghwa took the bigger risk, that if someone were to find out, nothing would happen to him but a bit of outrage. 

Seonghwa had seen kings killed for less. Public outrage was as dangerous as a sword to someone in such a position. 

“I am not speaking on this anymore,” Seonghwa said firmly, shaking his head and sitting back down. “Drop the subject, Yeosang.” 

“Master,” Yeosang pushed desperately. “You cannot give up just out of fear-” 

“Say another word on the subject, and I will expel you from this palace.” 

Yeosang’s mouth clicked shut, and when Seonghwa glanced up his eyes were shining. He quickly looked away. “Return to your work and do not bring it up again,” he ordered, feeling the contents of his stomach slowly try to force their way into his throat. 

There was another moment where Seonghwa was sure he would say something else, but he turned quickly, passing his desk and rushing out of the room, slamming the door behind himself. 

Seonghwa’s head dropped to his hands, twisting his fingers through the strands hard enough to hurt. His eyes stung and he felt like he had a boulder on his chest. It had already been over a week without even getting to  _ see  _ Hongjoong, but if so many people were suddenly aware of their closeness, it was too dangerous to continue. Perhaps in a couple of months, the rumors would die down, and they would be… they would be…  

Would be what? Exactly in this same position? Sneaking around dark corners and playing a never ending game of charades with the palace? Waiting until it seemed that people had begun to notice again? Taking another break? Repeating the same cycle over and over until… 

Until what? They died? They grew tired and left each other? The pressure from the council got to be too great and Hongjoong gave in to- 

No. Hongjoong said he chose him. And it was a lovely thought in the silence of his chambers, but out in the world, what weight did the promise hold? Seonghwa would know that, in his heart, Hongjoong would have chosen him, but in reality he would watch from afar as he moved on. 

The sun began to set, casting the room in shadows, and Seonghwa still had not moved. It was passed when he should have lit the lamps, but there was still light enough to see by.. 

He heard the gentle creak of the door opening slowly, and sighed, sinking further into his hands as a different guilt settled in his heart. “Yeosang,” he sighed, “I’m sorry, I should not have snapped at you. You were only attempting to help.” 

A short silence. “Well, I am sure he appreciates the sentiment.” 

Seonghwa’s head snapped up at the amused voice, his eyes meeting Hongjoong’s that danced with barely-contained mirth. Seonghwa was sure he had fallen asleep and was dreaming (as he often did of Hongjoong). He stumbled to his feet, eyes trailing along his body, as if making sure he wasn’t some figment that ended at the waist. 

Hongjoong chuckled lightly. “You do not seem very excited to see me.”

Seonghwa swallowed. “I am still attempting to distinguish if this is a dream or not.” 

He smiled, stepping closer, and Seonghwa caught the scent of lavender and blossoms from his robes. “It is not,” he assured him, stopping before him and taking his hands gently. “Believe me.” 

At his touch, Seonghwa suddenly remembered where they were and jerked away. “What are you doing here?” he demanded quietly. “We talked of this-” 

“I was not going to come,” Hongjoong said gently, lowering his eyes to watch as he grabbed Seonghwa’s hands once more, stubbornly. “But Jongho was bringing me my evening meal… and had a very interesting message for me. From your apprentice.” 

Seonghwa felt bile burn his throat. “He did not,” he breathed in horror. “Tell me he did not go behind my back-” 

“I will be eternally grateful to him that he did,” Hongjoong broke in with a weak laugh, thumbs brushing over the back of Seonghwa’s hands. “Jongho told me to wait until after my meal, then tell one of the guards- Mingi- to accompany me somewhere important.” He huffed. “I did not know what he was speaking about, but I rarely do with Jongho. He simply begged me to listen. He even told me to say that it was for a meeting for an arriving general… But I did as asked, and Mingi apparently already knew where we were going. He brought me here, but along the hall, I met with your apprentice who assured me that the two of us would have at least a half hour before anyone would question my absence.” 

Hongjoong laughed, but it sounded like he had lost his breath. “I cannot describe to you my panic at his insinuation. I was sure I seemed very kingly, practically swooning in a hallway. He assured me that he had already dealt with enough panicking lovers today, and urged me to hurry.” He shrugged. “If he knew and had not revealed us, I was not going to resist his offer. Truthfully, it was perhaps a bit selfish, not quite rational, but… I do not care.” He stepped closer, their hands remaining clasped as their chests pressed together. “I’ve missed you.” 

Nothing colorful, nothing desperate or poetic about it: a simple statement that held the weight of days. 

Seonghwa wet his lips and made a mental note to… what? Kill Yeosang? Thank him? “What have you been up to these passed days?” he asked instead. 

Hongjoong smiled gently, leaning his head against Seonghwa’s shoulder. It was different. There was no pushing and pushing, knowing they had only minutes. Even without seeing each other for a week, there was no immediate desperation. Hongjoong simply leaned against him as he spoke quietly. “Too many meetings and audiences. If I see another person aside from you in the next month, I shall commit a murder most foul.” 

Slowly, the knot in his chest loosened, and Seonghwa was able to croak out a small laugh. “I’ve watched you come and go,” he confessed. “Have you been sleeping?” 

“No,” Hongjoong answered truthfully. The two of them did not have the luxury or time to lie. “My mind would not stop thinking of you long enough to sleep.” 

He snorted gently, resting his cheek against the top of his head and closing his eyes, breathing in his scent. “Surely, you must have thought of other things. All of the noblemen and council meetings…” 

“I did, but I much preferred when I thought of you.” 

Seonghwa sighed, shifting his hands to lace their fingers together. The sun sank further, casting the room in shadow. “I had considered attempting for us to separate for a while.” 

Hongjoong stiffened against him, hands tightening unconsciously on his, as if Seonghwa would try and pull away right there. “Why?” 

Seonghwa explained quietly, neither of them moving, and by the time he finished, Hongjoong was pulling away to stare at him with dark eyes that were sure. “I would not allow that,” Hongjoong confessed. “Regardless of how much you would have pushed for it.” 

Seonghwa smiled gently, holding both his hands in one and using his other to brush against his cheek. “What could you have done?” he chuckled quietly. “If I had decided to try and stay away?” 

“I would follow you,” Hongjoong assured him. “I would wait for you in your tower, in your chambers, in the halls- and everyone would demand I return to my duties, but I would only seek you out. And that would be much more obvious than what we are doing now. So, for our own good, it is best if you do not.” 

Seonghwa laughed, and tried to remember the last time Hongjoong and he had exchanged more than a handful of hurried words, spoken in whispers with fear tinging them. Had they ever had a time where they didn’t fear someone entering? Seonghwa wasn’t sure how much he could trust that no one would attempt to intrude, but he knew that Yeosang at least was clever enough to at least buy them time. 

The last real conversation he remembered having with Hongjoong was after his father’s death. Seonghwa had broken their most vital rule, slipping in through his bedroom window in the middle of the night.

Hongjoong had tried to convince him to leave, but all it took was a single touch from Seonghwa before the- then- boy had fallen in broken cries. He had been holding back the entire night, and Seonghwa sat with him on his bed and held him until his tears ran dry. 

They talked the whole night, in hushed whispers under the blankets of Hongjoong’s bed. Hongjoong talked about his father, his fear for taking his place, the panic that had already seized him, he was only eighteen-

Seonghwa had talked about Hongjoong’s bravery, his kindness, his already-present wisdom that would only grow, his likelihood of leading the kingdom successfully with just the qualities he possessed now. 

It was not the first conversation they had had like this (They had a similar one when Seonghwa’s master stepped down, and Seonghwa was suddenly stepping up a couple of years too soon. He was facing people five times his age who watched him with curled lips, cursing him for being head scholar simply because of his master.). But it was one of the last they had. After that, Hongjoong was too preoccupied with being king, and Seonghwa was thrown into more duties of his own. 

Having these few minutes of just talking rekindled that burning in Seonghwa’s chest. His pull to Hongjoong was not physical- the physical was probably only the smallest portion possible. Seonghwa wanted this. Wanted talking and understanding and exploring without using their bodies. 

Seonghwa pressed his forehead against Hongjoong’s. “Truthfully, I doubt I would have had the strength to do it, regardless.” 

“Good,” Hongjoong whispered, eyes bright and words quiet. “It would have looked quite embarrassing if I were so unable to part from you, and you found so easy.” 

“Easy?” Seonghwa scoffed, shifting to drag his lips slowly over Hongjoong’s cheek. “Never,” he breathed. “Not even if you were to throw me out by the scruff of my neck.” 

“Throw you out?” he chuckled. “Never.” 

There was a moment where they both stood still, both waiting and testing, Seonghwa’s heart slowly climbing to his throat as Hongjoong stared at him, his smile gone and replaced with eyes that were dark. “What are you waiting for?” he breathed against Seonghwa’s lips. 

Seonghwa wasn’t sure, so he closed the gap between them. 

He didn’t rush. When Hongjoong started pushing, he kept them slow. If they had time, then Seonghwa was going to take advantage of every second. Seonghwa brought a hand up, threading it through the strands of hair at the base of his neck as Hongjoong curled his fingers into the collar of his robe. 

The cool afternoon suddenly felt so warm as Hongjoong’s lips moved against his, and Seonghwa shifted to deepen the kiss, licking inside the warmth of his mouth. Hongjoong made a weak noise in the back of his throat, and suddenly started pushing Seonghwa backwards. Seonghwa didn’t know what he wanted, but followed his directions until the backs of his knees hit the edge of his chair. 

Suddenly, Hongjoong was pushing him down until he sat on the chair, and then climbing into his lap. It was a tight fit, his knees straddling Seonghwa’s thighs, but the change in position was different than any they had done before. Suddenly, Hongjoong was the one controlling the kiss, rising up on his knees so Seonghwa had to tilt his head to meet his lips. 

Hongjoong licked into his mouth eagerly, tongue exploring and running across his soft palate. Seonghwa sucked on it gently, making Hongjoong hummed deep in his chest, fingers twisting in Seonghwa’s hair tightly, directing him to reach further into his mouth, wet and open-mouthed. 

Hongjoong suddenly pulled away, ducking his head and tugging at the collar of Seonghwa’s robes. He was able to expose a few more inches of skin at his collarbone and began sucking at his skin. It was a foreign feeling that made Seonghwa stiffen but gasp in pleasure as he tasted the skin there. 

“I wish I could have all of you,” Hongjoong whispered, pulling back only a moment to speak before taking Seonghwa’s mouth once again. Seonghwa moaned at the thought, and Hongjoong jerked away quickly. “Do not,” he bit out. “If you make another sound like that, we will be occupied with activities that will take much longer than our allotted time.” 

“And if I’m agreeable to that?” Seonghwa posed, latching his lips onto the delicate skin of Hongjoong’s neck, just at the junction of his jaw. It was uncharted territory. Seonghwa had never dared do anything but kiss the spot gently, but he bit at it lightly this time, sucking softly to soothe it.

And truly, Hongjoong was such a hypocrite, letting out a mewl that sparked a blazing fire in Seonghwa’s gut, worse than any noise that would have come from his own mouth. 

“Seonghwa,” he gasped, hands grasping at his shoulders as his head fell to the side, as if offering the pale skin as a canvas for Seonghwa to decorate as he pleased, despite his next pleas. “S-Seonghwa, stop- stop-” 

He pulled away from his neck, tilted his head back to see, and Hongjoong’s eyes were practically black with desire, fingers shaking where they clenched at the fabric of Seonghwa’s robes. He still offered his neck, taking shuddering breaths to calm himself. 

“I would take anything and everything you wished to give me,” Seonghwa whispered against the skin of his neck. 

“Not now,” Hongjoong whispered as if the words caused him physical pain. “We cannot-” 

“I know,” he murmured, hands tight on Hongjoong’s hips. “That does not mean I like it.” 

“I assure you, the feeling is mutual,” Hongjoong swallowed. “I cannot believe that in such a short time, I forgot how addicting you are.” 

Hongjoong remained where he was, straddling Seonghwa’s lap, but he just stared at him, eyes bright with wonder. Seonghwa felt his lips twitch. “What?” he questioned softly. 

Hongjoong took another moment to scan his face. “You are breathtakingly beautiful,” he confessed, lifting a hand to brush hair from his forehead. 

“And yet, I appear as a shriveled flower compared to you,” He assured him. 

“Seonghwa-” 

“Do you remember the first time I saw you?” he whispered, wondering idly how many minutes had passed. 

Hongjoong snorted. “How could I ever forget? I was starstruck the moment you entered my chambers with your books.” 

Seonghwa shook his head, though. “That was when we first met. The first time I saw you… was weeks before then, before you ever had cause to look for me. At a council meeting. You stood beside your father’s throne, staring out as if you desired nothing more than to be anywhere but where you were.” He chuckled weakly. “And I was just about to take over for my master as head scholar. I had never thought to lift my head from my books, but when I did… I was suddenly staring at the most gorgeous human I could ever imagine.” 

Hongjoong was trying to bite back a grin. 

“It was just on the edge of evening,” Seonghwa went on. “And the sun was golden against your hair-” he brushed a hand through the strands, making Hongjoong shiver- “and it reflected against your eyes, making them seem like cinnamon-” He brushed over his eyelashes, making him close his eyes automatically. “And you stared out into the room like you already ruled it… and I knew that you were the most beautiful person I had or ever would lay eyes on.” 

“So you only fell for me because of my looks?” he inquired, hand pressing to Seonghwa’s chest. 

“No. Your father asked your opinion on the riots to the west-” 

“You truly remember  _ everything _ ?” 

“-and you stated that the best course was to give in to their demands. All they wanted was food, you said.” Seonghwa dropped his eyes to Hongjoong’s chest, throat tight as he traced patterns in the fabric. “And a councilman told you to keep studying because such a ludicrous suggestion was out of the question. You told him to go without food for a week and see how ludicrous it seemed.”

_ “Those are human beings out there!” Seventeen year old Hongjoong had shouted, enraged at being looked down on. He looked so different from now… so much younger. Seonghwa was sure he, too, had changed. “They are not some animal for you to send armies after when they rebel after  _ you all  _ demanded to keep the grains for the inner villages! At least admit to your own fault in causing this riot. And after that, step up and fix the destruction you caused, rather than demonizing the victims you created.” _

Seonghwa swallowed. “I knew at that moment… that it did not matter what you looked like. You were a king I would gladly follow.” He felt Hongjoong’s breath stutter under his hand. “You are kind and fair… And in all the rushing we do around each other, I’m ashamed to say I have never said it, but it is true.” 

He lifted his eyes and found Hongjoong completely still, staring at Seonghwa as if waiting for him to deliver a blow. “I knew much of what my father ordered you to teach me,” Hongjoong blurted, words tripping over his tongue. “But, if just to have you stay a few extra minutes, I played the fool.” 

“I know,” Seonghwa said, voice light. That was one of the first things Hongjoong confessed to him. 

“I sought you out because I was attracted to you. And most of our meetings, I barely heard a word you said, too focused on staring at you like some lovesick fool. And I have regretted nothing more.” He rested his forehead against Seonghwa’s, swallowing thickly. “You are one of the wisest people I have ever known, and I regret every moment I ignored what you told me. Every piece of advice you have given me, each word of comfort, they come from years of experience you do not possess. When I first heard you speak before the council, after my coronation, I was sure someone would call out the idiotic look on my face. You spoke as if you had years to plan each word- tearing down the council’s decision to tax the outer villages.” 

“They were being completely moronic,” Seonghwa muttered, shaking his head. 

“Every declaration for war they tried to make, you combated until they had no more ammunition to throw at you.” He tapped a finger against Seonghwa’s temple. “Your mind… is a wonderous and inexplicable phenomenon that I am unsure how to face most of the time. I have watched armies of men bend before your mind.”

Hongjoong kissed him gently, slow and shallow, more like a punctuation to a thought than a capital at the beginning of another sentence. Seonghwa held him close, irrationally afraid that he might try and pull away after his little speech. 

“I wish to speak to you more,” Seonghwa confessed against his lips. “There are many things in my heart I never had the chance to share with you. In over six years, Hongjoong, I have never told you so many things.” 

Hongjoong was quiet, swallowing, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Tell them to me,” he said, voice thick. “I’ll hear them all, gladly.” 

“Not all of them are pleasant,” Seonghwa warned him. 

“All the more reason to say them,” he assured him, hands tracing gently over his cheek and neck. “I would never deny you anything you wanted to tell me.” 

And once again, it was such an unbelievable feeling towards the quiet promises. “Then I’ll start with this one while we still have time,” he said. “It is a question, rather than a comment, however.” 

“I’ll answer whatever you have,” Hongjoong agreed. 

“The meetings with the noblemen and the councilors…. Are they to discuss your marriage?” 

And Seonghwa wished he could not read Hongjoong so well, because the answer was all over his face. He knew it. There was nothing else that would be kept so quiet and secretive. 

“They are,” Hongjoong answered, pulling further away from Seonghwa, but he did not allow his body to move far. “The council wants very few people involved. The current most interested party is a nobleman’s daughter from the North. If the rest of the kingdom somehow heard of it, they’d riot for us even considering a woman from an area so prone to rebellion.” 

“Understandable,” Seonghwa agreed, but still wishing he had not spent a week in the dark. “Have you met her yet?”

“No, just her father,” Hongjoong answered, frowning slightly, scanning Seonghwa’s face. “I promised you, I would always choose you, though,” he assured him sternly, like a tutor instructing a child.

Seonghwa shrugged slightly. “The promise you made me was from your heart, and I will hold it as true as possible.. But I understand that in the grand scheme of the world and politics, it may not hold up.” 

Hongjoong shook his head. “I will  _ always  _ choose-” 

“I am not an ignorant child, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa chuckled wistfully. “You cannot comfort me with half-truths. If there is enough push, if something arises, there are many situations where you would be forced into a position to marry.” 

He met Seonghwa’s eyes pitifully, torn and aching. “Does… Does it not bother you?” 

Seonghwa hummed in amusement even if the smile faded quickly. “This is the second thing I wish to make known to you, Hongjoong…. I will hate every moment you are courting a woman, intending to marry her or not. With every girl they present to you and push towards you, I will be hiding curses of the ugliest kind.” He met his eyes, clear and worried. “But I will not stop you from whatever choice you make. If you marry, if you have an heir… I will watch you from the side and wonder for the life I might have had with you, but I will never curse you for making that choice.” 

“A choice that can do nothing but hurt you,” Hongjoong fought, pained. 

“A choice that is  _ necessary _ ,” Seonghwa pressed. “I understand that whatever decision you make, it is the best one. So, I will trust your judgement, even if it leaves me behind. I know that you would do all in your power to stop it… so if it does occur, it was out of our control to begin with. And how could I fault you for something like that?” 

Hongjoong’s eyes shone, and he cupped Seonghwa’s face, thumbs stroking over his cheeks, feather-light. “You mean more to me than anything this title or position could ever give me. Would you ever question that?”

“Never,” Seonghwa breathed. “But you called me wise… that means understanding the things out of my control. I understand that this is out of my hands. But what is within my hands…” He brought his hands up to cover Hongjoong’s, “is this moment here. This moment where you are mine, and I am yours, and there is nothing but the two of us.  _ This _ , I can control.” 

“Make it whatever you like,” Hongjoong commanded quietly.

And Seonghwa could imagine claiming his mouth again, taking these last few minutes (they were surely almost out of time) to taste him over and over for the last time. Instead, he shifted his arms until he cupped the back of Hongjoong’s head. He looked confused, but allowed Seonghwa to pull him forward until his head rested against his shoulder. 

Hongjoong quickly relaxed against him, arms wrapping loosely around his waist as he laughed softly against his neck. “What is this?” he questioned. 

“Making the most of it,” Seonghwa whispered, feeling Hongjoong’s heartbeat through his chest. “We can find any number of excuses to be in dark corners and have each other-” Hongjoong huffed gently- “But for now… I just wish to exist with you.” 

Hongjoong pressed closer to him, face hidden in the crook of his neck and tucking himself as close as possible to Seonghwa’s body. “You will get no complaints from me,” he whispered, sounding tired. “My only wish since everything began has been to have you beside me as I sleep. If this is as close as I can get, I will gladly take it.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes fell closed, and he imagined he could sleep here, in this very chair, with Hongjoong in his arms. Neither said another word, simply breathing in tandem and basking in each other’s warmth. 

  
  


~~~~~~

 

Outside, Yeosang exchanged glances with Mingi who stood at the opposite wall, a few feet from the door of the tower. At times, it seemed as if they could hear voices within, but no distinguishing words. 

“So… you tutor Wooyoung often?” he questioned after their lull in previous conversation. . 

Yeosang shrugged. “It is not tutoring, so much as Wooyoung telling me to bring a book, and then telling me to forget it and go exploring in the woods.” 

“Well, he must be listening to something you’re saying,” Mingi snickered. “He’s started using words none of us can decipher.” 

“So you see him often?” Yeosang asked. “What is he like when he isn’t tired of scooping horse manure all day?” 

“Mostly the same,” He snorted. “Bickering- especially with San, but Jongho likes pushing his buttons- pulling all sort of things that get him in trouble. He goes on for hours about your lessons, too.” 

Yeosang didn’t quite believe that, given how little attention he paid, but he allowed it. “Well, I’m sure even such dull lessons can seem interesting when you’re-” 

Distantly, the sound of footsteps, and both of them fell silent, straightening and preparing to send whoever it was on their way. No one had approached since they took station out here, but they were not afraid to defend the door as if it were their last line of defense in war. 

But when the person rounded the corner, all they saw was San walking along quickly. Yeosang didn’t relax, though, stepping forward a few steps to meet him. San was panting slightly, glancing behind himself. “I talked to Jongho,” he panted, clutching a stitch in his side. “They need to go. They’ve got maybe ten minutes before the guards outside his door are going to start searching.” 

Yeosang sighed, but nodded. “Thank you for your help. And thank Jongho as well.” 

San grinned gleefully. “Jongho doesn’t want thanks. He’s simply delighted that he was correct on his suspicions. He always knew Hongjoong was waiting for someone when he entered. He was just glad it was Seonghwa and not the maid who took his tray away.” 

“Go on, then,” Mingi said quickly. “They will be on their way in a moment.” 

San gave a very sarcastic seeming bow and rushed off again. Mingi and Yeosang exchanged looks once more. “I am not close enough with either to intrude,” Mingi said, lifting his hands to his chest. 

Yeosang wasn’t sure anyone was close with the king, aside from his master. 

Yeosang thought the king was a good one. He had never interacted with him directly, but he saw him from a distance as any scholar did. He was popular among the villages, even if that made him a nuisance to the councilors, but those old men needed a swift kick to their rears every now and then anyway. But mostly, Yeosang could respect the man that always stuck to what he believed to be right, even when others rejected it. 

He was a force to be reckoned with when angered, and Yeosang had only had the misfortune of seeing him lose his temper once, when the councilors had gone behind his back to harass a village that had not contributed their portion of crops. It was not a sight he wished to see again, but it colored his opinion of the king for some time. 

Which excused his reaction to his master returning from the king, distressed and in tears, when Yeosang was sure the two of them were intimate. He had asked Seonghwa: So he is kind? Because perhaps all the decisions he made were an act. Perhaps his true nature was that storm Yeosang had witnessed once. 

But Seonghwa looked at the king (now that he didn’t hide his gaze around Yeosang) as if he were something delicate and precious and wondrous.  Yeosang wasn’t sure it made much sense. But that didn’t stop him from trying to save something that clearly was worth Seonghwa’s life, if he was continuously returning. 

Yeosang sighed, rolling his eyes. “Useless,” he muttered, stepping over to the door. Did he knock? He was sure neither of them were going to appreciate it if he simply barged in. So he tapped his knuckle gently against the door. “Master?” he called quietly. 

There was no response, and Yeosang resisted the urge to groan. He knocked a little harder. “Master?” 

There was some sort of voice on the other side of the door, but Yeosang couldn’t make out what it said. He sighed, pushing the door open enough to stick his head in. 

And by all the gods if it wasn’t the strangest sight to behold. 

The king- the ruler of everyone, the storm that threatened to break land at any moment, the monarch who had ascended to the throne in the wake of his father’s death, the man who had, since the age of 18, brought about a period of peace no one had ever seen before- 

That king- the most powerful man in the kingdom- was curled up in the lap of a humble bookkeeper, head resting against his shoulder like a child fallen asleep in their parent’s arms. Seonghwa’s arms were around him tightly, and when his eyes met Yeosang’s they were challenging, as if Yeosang would attempt to take the man away from him. The king didn’t lift his head, but it was impossible to reconcile the man who commanded power everywhere he walked, with the man held within his master’s arms. 

“I asked what it was,” Seonghwa said quietly, but his eyes were hard. 

Yeosang quickly lowered his eyes. “I apologize, Master. But you must part soon. We have only a few minutes until the guards begin to look for His Majesty.” 

And Yeosang couldn’t help the way he glanced back up for only a moment, catching sight of the king press closer to Seonghwa, as if silently asking not to be separated. There was something wholly childish and utterly heartbreaking about the entire scene. 

“We will be out in a moment,” Seonghwa assured him, hand trailing gingerly along the king’s side, as if comforting him silently. 

Yeosang nodded quickly, retreating and closing the door firmly. He let out a short breath. Whatever he thought the king’s relation with Seonghwa was… it was not that. Perhaps it was cynical to think they were only together to satisfy some physical desire, but Yeosang should have guessed from Seonghwa’s expression that their feelings ran deeper than that. 

“What were they doing?” Mingi whispered, expression a mixture of curiosity and a desire not to know. 

“Hugging,” Yeosang said shortly, not feeling comfortable saying anything more. Mingi huffed, perhaps disappointed at the lack of detail, but Yeosang was still trying to erase the tender scene from his mind. That was never meant for his eyes- for anyone’s eyes. That was reserved for the two who were forced to occupy the same world only once in forever. 

The two of them remained in the hall long enough that Yeosang was about to knock on the door again, but then it opened and both he and Mingi straightened. The king exited by himself, without Seonghwa by his side, and Yeosang quickly stared at the floor. 

But the king paused by him, and Yeosang lifted his eyes when it became clear he was waiting on him. The king smiled at him gently. “You have my gratitude,” he said quietly. “Pass it on to your friends that helped, as well. You’ve given me something invaluable.” 

And perhaps, on his own, Yeosang might not have believed him, but with the sight still burned in the back of his mind, he understood. He nodded, bowing low. “If you need any help… we are all willing to work to bring the two of you together again.” 

“It may not happen for some time,” the king said distractedly. “But I will keep it in mind. Thank you. Sincerely. It is uncommon to find such loyal people among the palace.” 

He began walking away, Mingi following him, and within seconds, Yeosang was alone in the hallway. He grappled with what to do- enter or leave. He didn’t think his master would appreciate the company, but the decision was made for him when he heard his name called from within. 

He sucked in a sharp breath, but entered, prepared for the verbal lashing his master undoubtedly had prepared for him. Seonghwa stood in front of his desk, leaning against it with his arms crossed. Yeosang decided to beat him to the punch. “I do not regret going behind your back,” he said quickly. “Nor will I apologize for it. The king was grateful for our actions, and I would repeat them if he asked it of me, regardless of what you said.” 

To his surprise, Seonghwa’s lips turned up, though his eyes were slightly heavy. “I only meant to thank you for taking the risk to help. It was not asked for… but it is appreciated. And you have my sincerest apologies for how I spoke to you earlier.” 

Yeosang nodded, relieved at the lack of anger. “Was it… enough?” he questioned carefully. 

Seonghwa’s smile wavered dangerously, but not in an entirely bad way. “It was more than we ever could have asked,” he said quietly. “Thank you.” 

Yeosang didn’t have any words to respond, so he simply bowed. “I planned to work some in the libraries,” he said, straightening. “Is there anything else, Master?” 

Seonghwa shook his head. “No, you are free to go.” 

Yeosang didn’t mean to run from the room, but he felt like both of them needed a moment. He rushed along without looking too desperate, swallowing thickly. He, of all people, could appreciate the king and Seonghwa’s relationship. Their need for discretion and their pain at being separated. 

He, of all people, understood that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and please let me know what you think!  
> I’ll try and update as soon as possible but life does happen so I wanted to put this out as soon as possible!  
> Cheers~~  
> -SS


	3. The Weight of Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay another quick one, but this was something I just threw together. Please let me know if it fails I’m comparison to the others and I’ll try again, but honestly I stared at it so long, I just gave up trying to fix things. 
> 
> All right, guys, this is where we find my true worth. I’ve written fluff, let’s see how far off the rails I fly with angst. I tried to be reasonable with it, but I tend to get swept up in the emotions of scenes. In fluff, it makes it extra fluffy, but I really hope I didn’t come across as cliche with this. I really tried not to be cringy, so I’m sorry if it’s awful, but it’s hard for me to write scenes realistically like this. 
> 
> Let me know what you think, and thank you for reading!

It became strange.

Hongjoong was accustomed to greeting Jongho when he entered with his food, with his sharp tongue, but knowing that the servant had played a hand in their little meet up… 

Hongjoong did not bring it up, too concerned that Jongho was not learned in the art of making sure the guards outside the door did not hear conversation, but he offered him a softer smile when he came in. And walking through the castle, he saw Mingi, Yeosang- all the people who had aided them... And he felt warmth in his chest at the thought that there were people- real, normal people- who were willing to risk themselves for the  happiness of two practical strangers. 

And Hongjoong could do nothing to thank them. It was difficult, but he secretly locked away that appreciation, hoping that one day, he could return it. 

 

~~~~~~

 

“In conclusion, Your Highness, it is clear that, in order to maintain our current state of wealth, we must demand more from our citizens, as is their duty to supply to their king.” Councilor Hwang bowed and returned to his spot among the row. 

Hongjoong nodded slowly, carefully filing away everything he had said, though he disagreed with most of it. “Are there any objections to what was said?” he questioned the room at large. 

There was several moments of silence, to his surprise, and Hongjoong was ready to call the meeting to an end, but then someone stepped forward. “I have something I would like to refute with, Your Majesty,” Seonghwa said, stepping forward with a bow. Of course. 

Normally, any word from Seonghwa in the Royal Hall made Hongjoong’s pulse jump- both in unnecessary panic and undeniable pain. What if someone caught on? But it was ridiculous because Seonghwa was the head scholar. Speaking up in Council meetings was his  _ job _ . But by the time he would convince himself to stop panicking, Seonghwa’s speech would have ended, and he would step back into his line, and Hongjoong was left with that ache in his chest. 

And while, now,  he did feel the familiar concern take root in his heart, the ache was not so violent at seeing Seonghwa’s stern face. That time he had with Seonghwa a few days ago, thanks to his apprentice and his friends… it had quelled something within him. He no longer felt such a desperate burning to see him, to be with him, at all times. 

Of course, he still longed to be beside him, but it was no longer such an unbearable pain in his chest. Those moments… just resting against him were indescribable. 

But Hongjoong quickly shoved the thoughts of secret rendezvous from his mind and focused as Seonghwa faced Councilor Hwang directly. This would be a show. 

“With all due respect, Councilor, increasing the demand from citizens who cannot give more will only deplete the kingdom’s wealth at a much alarming and irreversible rate.”

Councilor Hwang- probably old enough to be Seonghwa’s grandfather- sneered angrily. “Perhaps you’ve read too many books, and it has fried your brain,  _ scholar _ ,” he said through gritted teeth. “But receiving more resources from the citizens will  _ increase  _ our wealth.” 

Hongjoong had to stamp down to urge to order the man to cease speaking. Insults and sharp words were commonplace among council meetings, and it would be suspicious to the highest degree if Hongjoong suddenly rose to the defense of a random scholar. However, he did fight back a grin. Because Seonghwa did not need protection from him. Especially from Councilor Hwang.

His expression was nothing but cordial as he inclined his head. “Perhaps. But perhaps you, councilor, should attempt to not only focus on myopic, immediate pleasures that would benefit only your small percent of the kingdom.”

The councilor flushed an angry red, too easily riled up in the face of the scholar. “How  _ dare  _ you-” 

“Most villages already struggle to provide what is required of them,” Seonghwa went on, voice as sharp as ice shards. “Demanding more will not suddenly increase their productivity, it will deplete their already limited resources. They will be forced to give up what little food they have left to sustain themselves on, and then they will run out completely- leaving both themselves and the kingdom without  _ anything _ . Your demand would increase the palace’s wealth for perhaps a few months. And then villages would die off, riots would flare up, and the palace-  _ your  _ portion of the kingdom- would suffer far greater than the temporary lack of harvest due to lack of rains.”  

Hongjoong bit back a grin as Seonghwa turned him, ensuring his expression was completely neutral. Seonghwa bowed. “Your Highness, I suggest we wait out this decrease in crops. To begin rationing food, perhaps, but to not demand more from the citizens. If the drought persists, further action may be taken, but I beg that you be patient with this.” He then stepped back into his place, and Hongjoong noticed Yeosang standing behind him, staring at his master with glowing eyes of awe and pride. 

Councilor Hwang looked ready to leap across the aisle separating the two parties, and though the man was nothing but a nuisance to Hongjoong, it was infinitely amusing to watch Seonghwa continually usurp each and every one of the man’s statements. This was the same councilor who had tried his hardest to have Hongjoong remove Seonghwa as head scholar. 

_ “He is not more than a boy, Sire! Giving him such a position is mockery! What knowledge could he possibly have that betters someone of higher age and experience?”  _

But Seonghwa had never once slipped during meetings. And Hongjoong swore that if Seonghwa proved inept at his work, he would remove him and fill his position with another. Not even from the most objective standpoint could Hongjoong find fault with Seonghwa. 

“I will take it into consideration,” he said “Any other statements to be made?” The hall was silent, though Hwang continued to fume. “Then I will reflect on all that was said and make a final decision by evening tomorrow. This Council is dismissed.” He stood and left without looking at the people in the hall. 

Truly, it was a short meeting, but Hongjoong could not even revel in the freedom of leaving. He had another appointment, of far less amusing nature, but just as laughably easy to decide upon. 

 

~~~~~

 

Hongjoong was quickly growing tired of humoring these men as they tried to present their daughters or nieces in the best light they could. 

“She can play five instruments,” a Lord from the East assured him eagerly, practically tripping over himself to describe all the wonderful aspects of his eldest daughter. “And she’s known three of them since she was only a child!” 

Hongjoong nodded politely, hands folded tightly behind his back as they walked through the halls of the palace. Outside, he could see the afternoon carrying on, and he wondered how much longer he would be forced to listen to this. 

His mind was an odd mixture of pure annoyance and strangely calm. Over the passed weeks, he had been presented dozens of women and ladies- all with glowing recommendations. And before, even one offer of marriage was enough to send Hongjoong into a rage. How he would wish to slap these old men, shake them and demand that they get out- did they not know he was already promised to another? 

But these recent meetings had come with a vague sense of calm. He felt less lost and stormy among these meetings. Seonghwa and he had spoken. They both understood where they stood. And though Seonghwa was correct, any manner of things could arise that forced Hongjoong’s hand, but Hongjoong would fight them off to the death. Of course, knowing that Seonghwa and he were closer, calmer, only made this whole process of being presented women more laughable. Did they not understand they stood no chance? 

Hongjoong’s marriage to any of these women would not grant them land, nor wealth, nor any amount of power. They were not for political gain, but rather a statement. With a queen, their kingdom would seem more “stable” to invading countries. More… “untouchable” the council assured him. And perhaps it would not be completely laughable if Hongjoong stood to gain  _ anything  _ from these marriages. 

Why would Hongjoong choose a girl five years younger than himself whose only distinguishing trait was that she played instruments? What good would that do him when he came to his room, lost and confused of the best course of action to take for the kingdom? What wisdom could she possibly offer when they stood on the brink of war and Hongjoong was trying to decide which lives to save and which to sacrifice? 

Why would Hongjoong ever choose someone such as that… when he could have Seonghwa beside him, guiding him as reliably as the North Star? 

Why would Hongjoong ever choose someone such as that… when he could have Seonghwa. 

“-grateful for this opportunity, Your Grace,” the Lord declared, clasping his hands together. “And I pray I will hear word from you soon.”

Hongjoong nodded, realizing they were probably wrapping this up. “I will take all you have told me into careful consideration.” Rote, boring, dull. The man backed away still bowing, and Hongjoong took a large breath of relief at his exit. “Are there any others for today?” he questioned, looking behind him. 

“No, Your Highness,” a councilor said. “We gave only Lord Kim an audience today because of how promising his daughter seemed.” 

Hongjoong resisted a laugh, nodding solemnly. “Then, I believe I am devoid of scheduled duties until the audience with the village leader tonight?” 

“Yes, Your Grace.” 

He inclined his head. Usually, he would return to his chambers and pray for Seonghwa to find a moment to intrude. But, after the council meeting, he would be busy gathering more information of the crop situation and compiling it for Hongjoong and the councilors to use. (Because despite their relations, Seonghwa was actually an amazing scholar.) Seonghwa would not have time to visit him tonight, which left him an afternoon free to find something else. The garden had been dull as of late, (and continuously haunted with memories of the past) so he nodded. 

“Then, since I have been bored as of late, I am going for a ride around the pasture.” 

“Your Highness-”

“I have no need of an escort,” he broke in sharply, unexpectedly even to himself, lifting a hand when his guards tried to come forward. Mingi was not among them, this time. “I wish for a moment alone.” 

“Your Highness, that is highly-” 

“I have made a decision,” He said firmly, narrowing his eyes. “Are you attempting to resist that, councilor?”

“Of course not, Your Highness! But the risk-” 

“I will be within the bounds of the castle at all times. I am not a child, Councilor, I understand how to protect myself.” They looked concerned, glancing among each other, but with his tone, none dared to push. He inclined his head. “Then, I will see you all at the audience tonight.” 

He turned with a flair of his robes, striding away. It was a dangerous hand to play, sending all his guards away, and Hongjoong never risked trying it when he and Seonghwa met. When he tried things like this, guards had a nasty habit of bursting in wherever he was, claiming to have heard something from the hall, and he couldn’t risk that happening with the two of them.

But today, Hongjoong had no reason to fear the guards following him, so he went alone. It was still foolish, given that someone very well could attempt to take his life again, but after so many days of having things forced upon him against his will, he felt the need to exercise some proof that he was still in control of himself. 

The stables would be empty this late in the afternoon, all the stable hands going about different business, and a stable boy, by the name of Wooyoung, as head of this stable, would be left to keep up with it while the others were gone. He enjoyed Wooyoung’s company. He was witty and striking when he readied Hongjoong’s horse, but had a gentle way with the animals that spoke volumes. 

Hongjoong breathed in the scent of straw and warmth (ignoring the less than pleasant smells that came with it) as he approached the large structure. He had not been riding in forever. Probably very close to months at this point. 

He watched the dirt shift under his feet as he walked, coming up to the closed door of the stables. Once the sun started going down, it was possible wild things would attempt to enter, so it was firmly shut. But Hongjoong only had to press once to open it, the door swinging open on well-oiled hinges, stepping inside and gazing around the stable. 

He frowned, noticing only horses in their stalls and straw around the ground. No Wooyoung. He turned, glancing up in the hay loft, but saw nothing but straw. Perhaps he had taken a horse to groom elsewhere? Hongjoong opened his mouth, prepared to call for him, but it stuck in his throat as he heard rustling from the far end of the stable. 

He stiffened, his immediate reaction one of fear at who or what might be hiding within the stable. But even before the concern would properly form in his mind, it faded because Hongjoong recognized the familiar sound of rustling clothes, followed by the gentle gasps of breath. 

He walked quickly into the stable, sure he must be mistaken, getting closer to the noise, and there, in the far corner of the stable, pressed into the darkness where none could see, he found a stable boy pressing a scholar’s apprentice to the wall. 

Wooyoung kissed Seonghwa’s apprentice hard and fast, his hands fisted in the front of Yeosang’s robes, his entire body pinning the other to the stable walls. And Hongjoong opened his mouth, taking a step forward to tear the boy off of him, but then he heard Yeosang release a tiny moan, running his hands up Wooyoung’s chest and threading them through his hair. The hands did not try to shove away, but pulled him closer. 

And Hongjoong was frozen in place for a moment, wanting to laugh and cry at the irony of it all. Yeosang, who had helped Hongjoong find stolen moments with Seonghwa, was stealing his own moments in the back ends of stables. With Wooyoung. 

There was nothing inherently wrong with Yeosang interacting with Wooyoung. In the same way that Hongjoong was able to exchange polite words with servants who came and went. The issue arose when the line of propriety was crossed. There was no consequence for Hongjoong and Seonghwa while they met in Hongjoong’s chambers and dissected texts together. But the moment Hongjoong’s lips touched his, they had heard the starting gong of a very dangerous game. 

Similarly, Yeosang, as the head scholar’s apprentice, was well above the rank of a stable boy. They could see each other, but this scene here… 

“Gods, Yeosang,” Wooyoung whispered, shifting his head to mouth at the apprentice’s neck. 

Yeosang sighed weakly, tilting his head. “If only you could pay as much attention to b-” he gasped- “books, instead of-” 

Yeosang’s eyes fluttered open. 

Doe eyes met shocked ones. 

Hongjoong’s stomach disappeared as Yeosang suddenly grabbed Wooyoung and pushed him away from his neck rather roughly. Wooyoung separated with a wet noise, looking confused, but Yeosang didn’t push him further away. Rather, he grabbed him and shoved the boy behind him, stepping in front, as if he could create a shield between the king and the stable boy. 

“Yeosang, what-” Wooyoung’s confusion died into horror as he stared over the boy’s shoulder at the king. “Your High-” 

Yeosang pushed him further behind his back, as if Hongjoong might not see him. He did not stare down Hongjoong, did not challenge him, did not dare him to make a comment. He stared at him in fear, eyes wide and chest heaving slightly as he held Wooyoung who only peaked out his eye behind Yeosang. 

For several heartbeats, there was nothing to be said, and Hongjoong wished he could find words, but all he wanted to do was laugh. Had Yeosang and his master really lived such parallel lives? 

But Yeosang looked the farthest possible thing from laughing. “Please,” he said finally, voice rough, but still that feather-soft lilt. His grip on Wooyoung tightened. “Do not-” He broke off, wetting his lips. “Wooyoung did nothing wrong,” he said quickly. “It was my doing.” 

“ _ Yeosang _ ,” Wooyoung hissed, but he seemed more terrified than Yeosang at the moment, both their clothes disheveled and lips red. 

Yeosang squeezed his side without looking away from the king- either to silence him or to comfort him. “Please, Your Highness,” he said, voice failing slightly. “Do nothing to him. It was my actions that caused this.” 

Hongjoong realized Yeosang was waiting for him to grab Wooyoung. To toss him from the palace and remove Yeosang from his apprenticeship. To force the two of them apart and do as the law called: disgrace them both for operating outside of their social spheres. 

“Yeosang,” he said carefully, eyes flickering between the two of them. “It would make me the most disgusting hypocrite to lift even a sharp tongue to you.” 

Yeosang’s knuckles were white on the edge of Wooyoung’s robes. “What will you do?” he questioned carefully, still not breaking eye contact. 

Hongjoong wanted to comfort the boy. What right had he to scold him for who he fell with? “Well,” he said, folding his hands. “If Wooyoung is not opposed to it, I had come to request my horse be readied. I had desired to ride around the pasture before a meeting I have tonight.” He looked passed Yeosang at the stable hand who glanced between them uncertainly. “Would you mind preparing my horse?”

Wooyoung hesitated only a moment, looking to Yeosang as if he had information he was missing. “C-Certainly, Sire,” he said, shifting out from behind Yeosang. But the apprentice did not readily release his grip on the boy, still meeting Hongjoong’s eyes. 

“Are you going to do anything to him?” he demanded- it sounded like a request, but the tightness around his eyes colored it to a demand. 

Hongjoong’s eyes softened as he stared at Yeosang almost tenderly. “I will not perform a single action against him or you,” he swore. “But I do have limited time before my meeting tonight, so I would beg your cooperation.” 

Wooyoung  nodded quickly, reaching down to pry Yeosang’s fingers from his robes, fingers trailing over his hand gently as he pulled away, giving Yeosang a look that was probably meant to encourage him. Yeosang finally broke his eyes from Hongjoong to watch Wooyoung slip passed the king, bowing quickly as he moved to the stall at the other end of the stable. 

The two of them were left staring at each other, and Hongjoong glanced back at Wooyoung. “I see,” he said cautiously, understanding what sort of fear must be coursing through Yeosang at this moment. “Does Seonghwa know?”

Yeosang shook his head slowly, still defensive. “He knows I attend small lessons with Wooyoung, but the rest… No one does. Not even Wooyoung’s friends around the palace.” 

“And when you aided your master and I in seeing each other…” 

Yeosang looked away, as if unable to hold his gaze any longer. “It is not necessarily related,” he assured him. “I knew that my master was fond of your presence. I wished to ease whatever distress had taken him. However, as I understood more, I realized that it must be infinitely more agonizing for you and my master.” 

“You do not see him often?” Hongjoong questioned. 

Yeosang took a deep breath, as if trying not to appear panicked. “More than you and my master, certainly. And assuredly with many less risks involved. Neither Wooyoung nor I would likely be killed if we were caught. Disgraced, expelled, left with nothing… but alive.” 

“And you trust that you will not be discovered as I happened upon you?” Hongjoong inquired gently. It was intriguing and horrific at once to see someone else struggling against the binds around them. They had been here, in broad daylight, with no warning system to alert them. Hongjoong had not exactly been silent when he entered, but they still had not heard. 

“We-” Yeosang shook his head, seeming upset with himself, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. “We are usually more careful, more hidden, but this was-” His  face flushed slightly as he glanced at the king. “Our meeting was not meant to go in that manner.” 

Hongjoong couldn’t help but let out the small bubble of laughter that tickled his throat, despite how he wished to scold him for being foolish. “And how was it supposed to go?”

Yeosang turned, stepping back to where they had stood and picked up a tome from the library that seemed to be about battle tactics. “We were discussing generals.” 

There was something wholly innocent about the boy before him, the boy behind him, the book between them and the laughter in Hongjoong’s chest with the scolding in his throat. 

He remembered a time when he had also been able to bask in that innocence. 

 

_ “-the villages choose a single leader,” Seonghwa said, gesturing to the spot on the page he was reading the information from. “Usually, it is someone thought to be the most responsible, or with the most ability to persuade the noblemen to listen to their pleas-”  _

_ Hongjoong nodded along idly, eyes trailing from Seonghwa’s elegant finger trailing along the page to his lips that move rapidly, spilling information like an overflowing cup pulled from a well, to his eyes that were bright and sharp and so young at this moment that flickered between the words and Hongjoong, checking his understanding.  _

_ They had already been pouring over this particular topic of village hierarchy for hours, and Hongjoong had long grown bored of it, but he allowed Seonghwa’s words to wash over him like a warm spring, not hearing anything. _

_ “-Highness!”  _

_ There was a sharp rap of knuckles at the top of his head, and he jerked away, clutching the spot with wide eyes. “By all the gods, Seonghwa, what was that for?” he demanded as Seonghwa lowered his hand with narrowed eyes.  _

_ “Have you heard anything I have said tonight?” Seonghwa scolded, shifting the book away from the prince.  _

_ “Yes,” Hongjoong stressed petulantly, rubbing the smarting spot on his skull.  _

_ “How many village leaders are appointed?” he asked, lifting a sharp eyebrow high, face expectant. Hongjoong was silent, mouth open slightly, and Seonghwa groaned, lifting a hand once more, making Hongjoong flinch away. “It is so boring,” he complained, dropping his head to rest on the table. “Can we not discuss something else?”  _

_ “No.”  _

_ He huffed, tilting his head to stare up at Seonghwa who looked at him with no leniency. Hongjoong suddenly smirked. “We could do something else entirely,” he suggested, lifting his head to rest his cheeks against his fists. “Something a little more engaging…”  _

_ Seonghwa gave him a warning look, glancing at the door and finding it still firmly closed. “You know, Hongjoong,” he said, voice a little lower, “it will become rather obvious to your father if you are continuously left by me with no knowledge and only swollen lips.” _

_ Hongjoong grinned, sitting up completely and shuffling on his knees until he rested directly beside Seonghwa who pointedly did not relax against him, staring at the book pointedly. “Seonghwa…”  _

_ “You cannot get out of lessons simply because your libido is growing.”  _

_ “Libido?” Hongjoong scoffed. “You can hardly call it such when only a gentle kiss may sate it.”  _

_ He sighed, turning to Hongjoong, unimpressed, and leaned forward, his lips resting against Hongjoong’s forehead for a brief moment. Hongjoong hadn’t even registered the pressure before it was gone. “There,” he said firmly, shifting the book back towards the king. “Now, the village will choose-”  _

_ “Seonghwa,” Hongjoong broke in, voice dropping as it became childish. He pressed against his side, pressing his head against his shoulder in frustration. “A real kiss,” he begged. “Please? Just one, and then I swear I will listen.” _

_ Seonghwa sighed, eyes falling closed as he glanced at him. “Swear?” _

_ “I swear,” Hongjoong pressed, straightening, unable to fight the smile on his lips.  _

_ He rolled his eyes, but turned from the table and faced Hongjoong completely, leaning until he rested on his knees to match Hongjoong. “Very well,” he muttered, taking Hongjoong’s face in his hands gently, and Hongjoong closed his eyes in anticipation, leaning forward at Seonghwa’s guiding touch.  _

_ The barely-present pressure that was against his lips and then vanished was not what he expected.  _

_ “Seongh-” _

_ A finger against his lips silenced his frustrated shout, Seonghwa suppressing a smile as his eyes danced bright with amusement. “It was a real kiss, you cannot deny it,” he said firmly. “Now, as promised, you will listen.”  _

_ Hongjoong turned and fell against the table. “You are horrendous,” he muttered into the wood.  _

_ Seonghwa ran fingers through his hair playfully. “So is the balance of power among the villages. Which have one leader, if you were curious. And in the spring, the head villager-”  _

 

Yeosang shifted the book, eyes staring at the cover. “What will you do?” he murmured, glancing up. 

Hongjoong shook his head slowly, eyes not quite able to meet Yeosang’s for long. His eyes were so young. So untested and unburdened. He had not yet faced what may occur with the life he chose. 

There was something like guilt in his chest. No. Not guilt. Apprehension. “You have sworn to keep my secret, so I will guard yours as well, until my grave.” 

Yeosang visibly relaxed a little, nodding once. “Thank you, Your Highness.” There was breathless gratitude in his voice. 

“But I will give you two pieces of urgent advice,” Hongjoong broke in, lifting two warning fingers. Yeosang nodded quickly. “First, I will advise that you tell your master of what happened here.” Yeosang looked unsure, and Hongjoong tilted his head curiously. “Do you not trust him to accept and keep your secret, as you did his?”

“Of course I do!” Yeosang burst, eyes sure. “But… Wooyoung… I do not want to risk-” He broke off, shaking his head. “I understand now… why my master responded so violently to my revealing what I knew. It does not matter how you trust someone… when one you-” He cut himself off, sucking on his cheek. “When one you care for is involved, it suddenly becomes meaningless.” 

Hongjoong stared at him warmly, feeling the sudden urge to wrap the boy in a hug because he  _ understood _ . The fear and the uncertainty and the ever-present demand inside your chest to ensure that no harm could ever befall them- 

“It is not meaningless,” Hongjoong assured him. “But it is terrifying. And it will never stop being the most painful experience in your life.” 

Yeosang stared at him, pained and finally understanding what he was saying, but not what he  _ meant _ . 

“Tell Seonghwa,” Hongjoong repeated. “In your own way, in your own time, but the sooner the better. This is something that would be important for him to know.” Yeosang nodded obediently. “And the second… Please, Yeosang,” he begged, quiet and perhaps a touch too desperate.  “Be careful.” 

“We are-” 

“I know,” Hongjoong broke in quickly. “I know, and I understand that you think you are doing everything in your power to keep each other safe, to protect each other. And I can see so easily that you would give your everything to protect Wooyoung.” Yeosang’s eyes flickered to the boy unconsciously. “But if I discovered you, others easily could, as well.” His chest tightened with each word. “And I am begging you… from the experience of someone who has failed the one he cares for… be careful.” 

Yeosang’s gaze snapped back to Hongjoong, eyes impossibly wide, mouth falling open. He seemed so young. Like they once were. “You-” He blinked rapidly. “You and my master- You were caught-” 

“Your horse, Sire,” Wooyoung said, bringing up the brown mare, saddled and ready. He didn’t meet Hongjoong’s eyes, instead seeking out Yeosang, quietly asking what was happening. 

Yeosang stared at him, still, though, shock and fear resonating within his mind and body. “Were you?” he demanded, voice weak. 

He did not answer immediately, eyes falling closed for a moment as he tried to gather himself. Hongjoong never thought back to that time, and he tried to shove the thoughts far from his mind, but they were already present, already staining his every thought black. 

_ Stop! _

“Once,” he said darkly, eyes opening slowly, trying to focus on the boys before him, rather than the echoes in his mind. Boys so young, so lost in each other, so obvlivious to what could happen. “And I knew I could never allow it to happen again.” 

_ Do not touch him!  _

Yeosang was pale. “What happened?” he whispered, and even Wooyoung, who knew nothing of what was being said, looked ill. 

_ I fell! He was not-  _

Hongjoong worked his jaw as his mind echoed. “Nothing I wish to remember,” he said carefully, turning away from them, staring at the dark brown of the mare’s coat. “But understand that if you truly wish to remain together, do not make our mistakes.” Could his voice be any more pathetic? “Realize now the consequences your actions can bring, and take the steps you deem necessary to avoid them.” 

He reached, taking the reins from Wooyoung who immediately stepped closer to Yeosang, hand slipping into his automatically, hidden behind their robes. 

_ Leave him alone! _

Hongjoong hid a wince. “I wish you both the best of luck,” he said honestly. “I hope you are able to be with each other.” He planted a foot in the stirrup and hauled himself into the saddle. “I will say nothing of what I saw to anyone,” he swore to Yeosang. “Including Seonghwa. But I beg that you tell him.” 

Seonghwa. 

_ Seonghwa!  _

Yeosang nodded, gaze heavy and dark with fear. It was too familiar. Too open. 

Hongjoong nodded at Wooyoung with a small upturn of his lips, inclining his head before clicking his tongue and urging the horse forward. Wooyoung stared at him with eyes wide with confusion as Hongjoong rode off. 

_ Get off of him!  _

The wind tugged at his robes and hair as he raced across the pasture beside the stable, urging the horse faster and faster, as if he could outrun the thoughts within his mind. He shook his head hard, which upset his balance for a moment, but he did not fall. He raced back and forth, hooves thudding and heart racing and mind a million times too loud, too dark, too full of memories he hadn’t needed to actually think of in years- 

_ Please! He did nothing-  _

Hongjoong shook his head again, tightening his legs around the body of the horse to keep his balance. 

Memories that were still raw and open and bleeding. Like adrenaline forcing the pain away until you forgot you were hurt, but then once it faded, even for a moment, there was still a gaping wound. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung were young. They were careless, they were wilder- 

They would realize that no risk would ever be worth it. 

“Your Grace!” someone yelled, and Hongjoong barely heard over the roaring in his ears, but he lifted his head and saw the sun low in the sky, a servant standing off to the side of the field, hands cupped around the mouth to yell. 

He hadn’t even noticed the time passing. Now, he would have to meet with the village leader, discuss the crop shortage, find a solution…

It was still so  _ raw- _

They couldn’t hurt them anymore. There was no one who could harm him- 

But there were. So many people. 

He turned his horse towards the servant, racing towards him and pulling to a sharp halt. The servant leapt back, eyes wide as Hongjoong dismounted and passed the reins into their hands. 

“Return him to the stables,” He said, trying to regulate his breathing he hadn’t even noticed was alarmingly short. The servant nodded, but eyed the beast cautiously, leading it carefully away. 

Hongjoong waited until the servant was well out of sight before pressing his hands to his eyes, trying to physically push the thoughts away that threatened to move to the forefront. 

_ He has done nothing, Father! That guard had no reason-  _

Hongjoong hissed as his blood ran cold at the memory, shaking his head, trying to knock the voices loose, but they clung like melted iron, clinging and burning and cooling to his skin. He moved towards the palace, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. There could have been screams or complete silence, Hongjoong heard neither of it. 

The first person he happened upon was a maid carrying a stack of sheets, and she moved to bow as he passed, but he stopped by her, lungs refusing to release any air. “Tell the council-” he ordered, using sheer force of will not to stutter- “The audience is cancelled. I will not leave my chambers tonight,” he said in a rush, not even seeing if the girl heard him, practically running towards his chambers. 

Servants leapt out of his path, but his only thought was to seek solitude. He shoved the door of his room open. “Allow  _ no one  _ inside tonight, including any guards, I do not  _ care  _ what you hear,” he ordered, and barely heard them respond before he slammed the door shut. 

He stood within the doorway of his room, and knew immediately it was the wrong choice to come here. The bed, the desk on the floor, the woven mat-

_ There was blood staining it. Not pools, but large drops and small flecks, flying through the air with each sound of wood hitting skin-  _

 

Hongjoong dropped to the ground, fingers threading into his hair and pulling, hoping that some amount of pain might keep him grounded, but it was child’s play compared to the dagger slowly dragging through his heart. He gasped, trying to get something inside of his lungs, but it only made him dizzy. 

_ Hongjoong struggled against the arms holding him back, trying to get his hands on the guard again, screaming something he could not even begin to decipher as another blow was delivered to Seonghwa’s already still body-  _

He couldn’t breathe. There was something in his chest- He couldn’t  _ breathe- _

Hongjoong felt like someone was touching him, something warm, something soft- 

“ _ Please _ ,” he heard as if someone was calling from across a field, feeling dull taps against his skin. Hongjoong tried to blink, but he didn’t even know what he was looking at.

Then a hand raised.  

Suddenly, there was a sharp, stinging pain across his cheek. 

He gasped, feeling like he was suddenly surfacing from a frozen lake, lungs heaving and finally providing him air to live, his hands grasping weakly, trying to find some piece of driftwood, something to hold onto, something to- 

“I”m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” Steady as a heartbeat, and Hongjoong was warm, hearing the quiet whispers in his ear like a lullaby. “ _ I am so sorry _ , please look at me,  _ please- _ ”

He blinked hard and realized he was looking at something. Something was touching his face. Someone was speaking. 

He blinked. Sucked in another breath. Then another. The fog in his mind began to clear, and he realized he was looking at  _ someone _ . 

Seonghwa’s cheeks were streaked, glinting in the evening sun. His hands cupped Hongjoong’s face gently, thumb stroking over his throbbing cheek gently. “I’m sorry,” he said brokenly, shifting to see Hongjoong’s cheek. “I am so sorry-” 

Hongjoong swallowed, the action hurting his chest, and lifted a shaking hand to grab Seonghwa’s wrist weakly. Seonghwa made a pitiful noise in his throat, shifting one hand to grasp at Hongjoong’s as if he were the only thing between him and falling into an abyss. 

“-to me, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa begged. “Please, say something, you are frightening me-” 

Seonghwa. Crying. Adrenaline or panic or desperation in his veins. 

Hongjoong suddenly stiffened, tearing his hand from Seonghwa’s grip and trying to get numb fingers to work as he suddenly began fumbling with the tie of Seonghwa’s robes at his neck. 

“Hongjoong, what- Stop-” 

Hongjoong couldn’t think of what to say. Just gasped in breaths and tried to get the tie undone, he needed to see- 

“I need to see,” he gasped, words and air mixing almost unintelligibly. “I need-” 

Seonghwa’s hands joined Hongjoong’s, undoing the tie deftly, unsure but giving in to whatever it was he was demanding. The tie fell away and Hongjoong tore the robe apart, eyes falling to the right side of his abdomen, exposing pale, smooth skin- 

Until just below his ribs where a lighter piece of gnarled skin sat, no bigger than a coin- 

_ The heel of the guard’s spear came down on his stomach, and Hongjoong heard a truly horrifying cry from the boy who tried to curl around a spot that was already staining red-  _

There was no blood there. Hongjoong’s fingers reached and touched it, shaking and weak, and Seonghwa did not scream in pain. Hongjoong could see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed easily, not around the bubbling blood around his mouth- 

Warm, firm hands took his, dragging them away from the scar, and Hongjoong looked up, finding Seonghwa staring at him, silent tears on his skin. “What has happened?” he whispered. “Hongjoong, you-” He suddenly stopped, shaking his head. “Come,” he said, never raising above a quiet murmur. He began to pull away, and the mind numbing panic in his mind at the thought would only allow Hongjoong a weak cry, scrambling to hold onto him- 

Seonghwa hushed him quietly, strong hands on his arms, pulling him upward. Seonghwa held most of his weight, guiding his stumbling legs to the bed, sitting him on the edge. There was no blood. No pain. He sank down in front of Hongjoong, allowing him to keep a hold on the shoulder of his open robes. He slid off his shoes, letting them fall to the ground, and rose up, shifting Hongjoong’s body until he laid down. 

He began to pull away. 

“ _ Do not go, _ ” Hongjoong grasped Seonghwa’s hand tight enough to hurt.

Seonghwa stared at him, gaze shattered, but he nodded. “I will not leave you,” he promised, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I do not understand what has done this to you…” Seonghwa’s eyes dropped to his own scar, mouth twisting. “Yeosang suddenly burst into the tower and demanded I see you. San found me and said something about the king running through the halls like a madman… And suddenly Jongho appeared and told me I needed to see you. He and San are currently acting as guards to your window.” 

Seonghwa was here. In daylight. The window. He wasn’t supposed to be here. If they found him here- 

“I could barely understand him,” Seonghwa went on, and Hongjoong tried to focus on just his voice. “But Yeosang tried to tell me something of what occurred… Hongjoong…” Seonghwa’s hand was warm against his arm where it rested. “I find you on the floor, and you do not respond to my touch, nor my calls, I did not even see you  _ breathe _ , Hongjoong-” His voice failed him, and he took several breaths, lips fluttering as he tried to hold himself together. “It was as if you were in another world, and I could not reach you. You scared me, Hongjoong, you  _ terrified  _ me. It was as if you were back in that time-” 

“I am sorry,” Hongjoong whispered, barely even audible,  staring at Seonghwa, so utterly exhausted. “I- I tried to forget it, I tried to ignore everything, but it- it is all still so clear in my mind.” 

_ “The man clearly ignored the Crown Prince’s demands. Regardless of what he suspected the two of them of partaking in, he attacked the head scholar’s apprentice, a trusted subject of mine, and all for what appears to be a case of needing to vent personal frustration. The Crown Prince has sworn that the scholar’s apprentice has been nothing but a vigilant tutor. The head scholar claims him to be nothing but trustworthy. The guard in question shall be expelled from the palace. I have no need of people who would distress my son as such in my services.”  _

“I was so scared,” he whispered, eyes stinging and heat burning down his cheek. “I was so scared for you-” 

Seonghwa hushed him, gentle fingers wiping the tears away _ ,  _ though his own kept mingling with Hongjoong’s. “I am safe,” he assured him in a hushed voice, so quiet it was like silk. “I am here, I am safe, Hongjoong. You kept me safe-” 

Hongjoong tugged firmly on the sleeve of his robe, and Seonghwa bend down without question, allowing Hongjoong to bury his face in his shoulder, shoulder shaking as Seonghwa hushed him and stroked his arms to warm them from their chilled shivers. The weight of his body against his chest was comforting, making it seem more real. 

Seonghwa was safe. He was not harmed. He was here. 

He shuddered breaths against him until he ran out of them. Seonghwa’s quiet words had not yet ended, a warm rumble against Hongjoong’s chest. 

Hongjoong was a fool. A ridiculous, idiotic fool. How could he act like this? How could he not realize how moronic he was being, acting as if Seonghwa were dying in front of him. Was he so adled that his mind could not even separate past and present? All of this brought about by two boys in a stable? 

“I was foolish,” he whispered hoarsely into Seonghwa’s skin. 

“No,” Seonghwa chastised gently, squeezing his arm. “You are not. It is not uncommon for people to face memories too strong to resist. It has happened before.” 

“I felt as if I were losing my mind,” Hongjoong whispered, fear seizing his chest, but he was too exhausted to realize it. “I could not stop seeing it-” 

Hands stroked down his face in a calming, intimate gesture. Hongjoong swallowed as Seonghwa traced down his neck, rubbing out the tension in his shoulders he hadn’t even known was there. “Yeosang told me about he and Wooyoung. And you.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes fell closed at the touch, loosening the muscles that felt as if they were trying to snap bone. He hummed quietly. 

“Hongjoong… I know that you see us in them. But it is not the same. You took our own fear and linked it to them, when it was not needed. They must be cautious, but it is not the same as us.” 

“I was the one who hurt you,” Hongjoong said, and Seonghwa’s hands paused. “That night. You kept saying you needed to go, but I made you stay.” 

“You  _ urged  _ me to stay,” Seonghwa murmured, continuing to press his thumbs into the muscles of Hongjoong’s neck and shoulders. “I also made the decision to remain with you. The fault is shared between both of us, Hongjoong. We have discussed this before, remember?”

He did. 

_ “He will need to be strict monitored by the physician for several weeks-” _

_ “But he is fully healed now, and may return to his duties-” _

_ “Please, Hongjoong, it has been months, you must at least  _ speak  _ to me-”  _

_ “I cannot even look at you, Seonghwa, without fear of hurting you-”  _

It was a lifetime before Seonghwa would force Hongjoong to speak with him, to admit to the guilt that choked him, and it was hours before Hongjoong’s tears had run dry, choking out apologies and desperate wishes to turn back the clock-  

They had been younger back then. They did not realize what consequences they were truly facing. 

And Hongjoong knew-  _ he knew _ , with all his heart- that it was not solely his own fault. But it was so easy to view it in that way. Seonghwa, who had tried to pull away, and Hongjoong who had lured him back like a line for a fish. And then the guard who finally came to check- 

“Hongjoong.” A gentle tap on his cheek, and he focused on Seonghwa’s gentle face. “Do not fall back into memories,” he begged quietly. “Are you in pain anywhere?”

Everything ached dully, like he had been running passed the point of exhaustion, and finally collapsed. But nothing stinging and vicious, as before. He shook his head slowly. 

Seonghwa looked relieved, sighing out low and long. “What do you need?” he asked, searching Hongjoong’s eyes. “What do you need of me?” 

Hongjoong did not know. He had never felt this before. Seonghwa waited patiently, looking ready to cross oceans for Hongjoong, but he did not need anything so grandiose. He simply twisted Seonghwa’s robes in his fingers, using them to pull him further down. 

Seonghwa understood immediately, cupping Hongjoong’s cheek and kissing him gently, as if he were made of the thinnest glass, able to break with a single wrong breath. Hongjoong cried into the kiss, the fear that clouded his senses parting before the warmth of Seonghwa pressing against him, moving against him, hands caressing Hongjoong’s body as if it were a most precious thing. 

They didn’t shake with pain, they did not slip from blood. 

Relief made him quiver under Seonghwa’s touch as he slowly felt like his soul was regaining control of his mind and body. Hongjoong barely moved, allowing Seonghwa to control everything, simply laying back and basking in the protective shield that seemed to form around them. 

He was safe. They were safe. Safe. Free of harm. Safe. 

They parted, panting heavily, and Hongjoong had the strength to lift his hand, running his fingers through Seonghwa’s hair gently, eyes misty. “I am sorry for frightening you,” he murmured, watching the way the strands fell back into place. 

Seonghwa laughed weakly, looking ill but relieved. “As long as you are unharmed, I am fine…” He trailed off slightly, waiting, and Hongjoong swallowed thickly. 

“I think it has passed,” he whispered, keeping his thought far away from That Night. “I did not mean to… act like that. I do not understand what brought it about. Perhaps I was scared for Yeosang and Wooyoung, I do not know.” 

Seonghwa hummed, scanning Hongjoong’s face carefully, eyes hooded. “I have to go soon,” he whispered painfully. “Yeosang is distracting a councilor while I came here.” 

Hongjoong wanted to curse and scream and lock all the doors and windows. He was so tired of- 

“You can go,” he whispered, brushing his fingertips across his cheek. “I am fine.” 

“You are not,” Seonghwa said firmly. “But… I truly cannot risk staying much longer. I has been close to an hour, perhaps.” 

That long? It felt like seconds to Hongjoong. He let Seonghwa fall from his grip, too exhausted to build up energy to even feel pained at him leaving. “Go,” he urged quietly. “Do not let Yeosang get into any trouble.” 

Seonghwa stared at him. “I will return as soon as I can,” he swore, lifting one of Hongjoong’s hands to his mouth and brushing his lips against it softly. “I will not leave you alone tonight.” 

“Do not,” Hongjoong ordered sternly, chest hurting from the strain of speaking. “I will not allow it. I am fine, Seonghwa. We can discuss it the next time we meet, sometime not so risky-” 

“You scared me, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa hissed quietly, squeezing his hand. “Understand that this is as much for me as it would be for you.” He averted his eyes, hands coming and folding his robes back into place and typing them at his throat. 

And it broke Hongjoong’s heart to know that he had hurt Seonghwa like that. But… “We cannot be so selfish, Seonghwa,” he said quietly. For the sake of his sanity, Seonghwa needed to be away from him. For the sake of his heart, he just wanted to draw him closer. “We cannot lose our heads simply because one of us is hurt. We have to be careful.” 

Seonghwa looked concerned, and then it seemed as if anger was building in his eyes, but it died quickly, leaving only a man with a weight on his shoulders. He leaned forward, kissing Hongjoong deep and slow enough that a warmth spread from his chest out to all his limbs, making them heavy. “We will see each other soon,” he promised. 

There were two gentle taps against the wood of the window, and Seonghwa sighed, leaning back. Hongjoong did not try and hold him back. “Thank you,” he whispered as Seonghwa stood. “For coming…” 

Seonghwa’s eyes softened into gentle clover. “I will always come when you need me. Regardless of the risk.” 

Another tap, slightly louder, and Seonghwa moved towards the window. “Goodbye,” Hongjoong whispered, and Seonghwa could only offer him a bittersweet smile as he pushed open half the window, slid out, and disappeared from Hongjoong’s sight. 

Once again, left alone, Hongjoong stared at the ceiling. And he expected to find the return of the panic, of the memories, but all he found was a crushing emptiness take hold of his chest. It felt like the warmth of the room had left with Seonghwa through the window, leaving him practically shivering in his empty, expansive bed. 

He curled around himself, like protecting a wound, and let tears soak the pillow silently, staring at the wall. He wished for Seonghwa to be beside him. He wished to shed the fear that had followed them like a second skin, haunting their footsteps and tormenting their every moment. 

And even nearly losing Seonghwa had not been enough to make them careful. Had not been enough for Hongjoong to look outside himself and just  _ think  _ for a moment. Of course, for a time, they were too afraid to even think of sneaking places once more. 

But being king had made Hongjoong lonely, scared, and desperate. He was desperate for Seonghwa, for comfort, and without the guise of meeting for his tutoring, Hongjoong had slowly been falling into a black hole that threatened his sanity. 

Meetings on the bridge, midnight walks- He had continued to risk them, selfish and pushing for Seonghwa’s attention as he struggled under the weight of his crown. But time and risk weight on them. 

It was Seonghwa who finally had to draw a line in the sand. And Hongjoong had hated himself for continuing their risky meetings. He had seen first hand: it was Seonghwa who risked his life every day. And Hongjoong had the audacity to continue to try and sneak moments, to be afraid, when he was not the one- 

Hongjoong closed his eyes. 

What life was he giving Seonghwa, forced into six years of sneaking and stealing moments? What life was he building for them when thirty minutes seemed like an eternity? 

Hongjoong was tired. 

He was  _ so tired _ . 

He just wanted freedom. He wanted happiness. He wanted… 

Seonghwa. Just Seonghwa. He needed nothing else. 

What would it be like? To live in a world where he and Seonghwa could walk beside each other? Where Yeosang and Wooyoung did not have to sneak into back corners? Where Yeosang did not need to hold the one he cared for, as if Hongjoong would give them a taste of his own agony by forcing it upon them? Where he could be happy. 

With Seonghwa. 

Was he not the king? Was there truly anything stopping him from creating that world? There were many things in his path, but the ache and pain and emptiness echoing within his chest was so great, he did not care about them. 

There was nothing but a desire, unending and raw, that demanded that he finally step up and  _ do  _ something. 

He either needed to create a world where they could exist together, or cease his whining about how unfair their lives were. But it was not just the two of them now. Yeosang and Wooyoung… and who knew how many other people, hidden within the walls of the castle, were longing to be with each other and were separated by  _ what _ ? 

A meaningless law that stated they were only allowed to operate within their own social spheres? As if Seonghwa were worth any less than those fools of a council who just took for themselves and left destruction in their steps. 

Hongjoong fell asleep. It was haunted and achy- tinged with red and faint screaming- but he slept all the same. Horrified dream were better than the nightmare he lived and breathed. 

 

~~~~~~

 

Seonghwa sat at his desk. 

Yeosang stared at him across the room, silent and cautious. 

“Master, I-” 

He lifted a swift hand, silencing him. “You have no need to apologize, yet again, Yeosang. You did enough of that yesterday.” 

He could practically hear his apprentice’s guilt from here. “But I should not have-” 

“You are guilty of no crime that I myself have not committed,” Seonghwa was quickly, gaining the energy to lift his head and offer a tired smile.  “And Hongjoong’s behavior was purely out of concern. It…” He shook his head slowly. “Everything is alright. Hongjoong simply frightened himself with memories.” 

“What happened?” Yeosang inquired. The midday light was too bright for Seonghwa’s eyes. 

He swallowed, shrugging slightly. “It happens every now and then. Moreso with Hongjoong than myself, but we will receive a scare from something, and there is an unreasonable panic. Give him a couple of days, and he will move passed it. There is truly nothing we can do to help.” 

False. Seonghwa could help him. He could be with him, could stay beside him to reassure him… but Hongjoong would never allow it. He would chase Seonghwa from the room himself. 

The days since their time in this tower suddenly seemed as years. It was so easy to forget the peace they held when these times came. But it would not last, Seonghwa convinced himself, forcing logic to overtake fear. 

Hongjoong would calm. Seonghwa could return to him. They would find that peace again. 

There was a harsh knock against the door, and Seonghwa almost told Yeosang to refuse whoever it was. He was not in the mood for an audience.

But the world did not stop turning simply because his seemed to be ending. 

With a heavy heart, he stood, waving a hand at Yeosang who looked ready to interject, and opened the door with a carefully controlled countenance. 

He almost slammed it shut again as Councilor Hwang glared at him from the other side. 

“Councilor,” he greeted cordially, stepping aside and trying not to appear stiff with rage. “What can I do for you?”

He stepped in, eyes grazing over every surface of the tower, landing on Yeosang for a beat too long, his apprentice simply lifting an eyebrow, as if asking what he wanted. 

“Have you come for a specific purpose, or did you just feel the urge to glare at my belongings and apprentice?” Seonghwa questioned, stepping back to his desk. 

Hwang scoffed. “Your tongue is always a little too sharp, scholar,” he warned. 

“My tongue simply delivers what my mind produces,” Seonghwa stated. “What can I do for you?” 

Hwang tucked his hands behind his back, eyes trailing over the bookshelves. “The king is unwell,” he said, glancing at Seonghwa sharply. 

Seonghwa simply nodded. “I had heard such rumors floating around. Has the physician been to him as of yet?”

He held Seonghwa’s calm gaze for too long, humming. “Yes. He declares that it is a simply case of fatigue. The king is resting now.” 

“Ah. I am glad to know it is nothing serious. I hope His Highness recovers soon.” Seonghwa waited, and Hwang made no move to speak further, nor leave. “Did you simply come to inform me of the king’s health? Certainly, you do not care of my knowledge of the castle that much.”

Hwang did not turn from the shelves, nor did he make any move to indicate he had heard Seonghwa. “The king has always seemed to favor you. I thought you may appreciate knowing he had fallen ill.” 

Seonghwa’s jaw tightened, but he made no visible response. “The king appreciates all who perform their duties well.” 

“Well, you must perform your exceptionally.” 

“I would like to think so,” Seonghwa returned calmly. His chest was beginning to squeeze. “He is also fond of Councilor Lee for his work among the villages. Does  _ he  _ know of the king’s condition?”

Again, Hwang only hummed. “Have you brought the king any new books as of late? I believe it’s been some time since you were summoned to his chambers.” 

“When I am summoned to perform my duties is hardly a concern of yours. But it has been several days. The king has not had time for reading with all his council meetings.” 

Hwan chuckled. “Yes… the council meetings… A very interesting point you made, about taking too much from the villages…” 

Seonghwa wanted this man out of his tower. Out of his life. Out of  _ this  _ life. “I simply told the king what I believed to be relevant to the topic. He asked if any had objections, and I did. As quickly as you would have disputed me, had I spoken first.” 

“You have a sharp tongue,” Hwang said again, finally turning to face Seonghwa, his expression making Seonghwa’s skin crawl. “Especially for one so young.. You are not yet even thirty, are you not?”

“I will reach twenty five this year.” Careful. Calm. Collected. Give him nothing. 

Hwang made an interested sound. “Same as His Majesty,” he noted. “I am sure he is grateful for someone so close to his age among his council.”

“He has made mention to me that he is grateful for someone younger. He believes I understand the world similarly to himself.” 

“Yes, I am sure the two of you share many views.” 

Seonghwa needed this man gone. “Truly, Councilor, did you only come to dissect my comings and goings about the palace?”

“You understand that the king is to marry soon, correct?” 

Seonghwa’s arms slipped behind his back to clench each other tightly. “I had not been told explicitly, but give how often it has been brought up, and his recent meetings with noblemen, it was not difficult to speculate.” 

“How do you view that?” Hwang asked, tilting his head. 

“I am getting a very vague impressions, Councilor,” he said shortly, “that I am being tested. And I do not appreciate underhanded behavior. Whatever it is you wish for me to say, simply ask your question directly.” 

Hwang’s lip curled slightly. “You think you are clever, do you not?” He glanced up and down Seonghwa’s body. “But you are nothing but a child playing pretend.” 

Seonghwa heard Yeosang stand, chair scraping. “You will not speak to my master like that!” he snapped. “Leave-” 

He lifted a hand. “It is alright, Yeosang,” he said, never breaking his eyes away from Hwang. “Only a fool would worry himself with lies spread with his name.”

“You flatter yourself, scholar.” 

“No, Councilor, I beg you to elaborate on your claim. Surely, you have evidence to support yourself. I would gladly hear where you believe I have fooled anyone. Where have my supposed skills failed? What makes me a child?”

Hwang was silent, expression darkening. “Your disrespect will win you no favors, scholar.” 

“I have no need of favors from you,” Seonghwa said, head tilting up. “Though I would ask again for you to point where I have disrespected you. For surely, if you look, it is you who has stormed into my tower and insulted my work with the king.” 

Hwang took a step towards Seonghwa, lips curled in a snarl, but Seonghwa did not flinch as he stopped himself, arms lifted as if he intended to strangle the scholar. He breathed heavily, anger making his head rise and fall rapidly. “I do not trust you, bookkeeper,” he hissed. “Everything about you smells of an act. You are involved in something underhanded.” 

“And I assume you have evidence to back these claims?” Seonghwa tilted his head. “Because unless you do, I will demand that you cease speaking to me as such.” 

“What were you doing in the garden with those servant boys yesterday?” 

Seonghwa’s blood ran cold, and only years of hiding and sneaking kept his expression was twitching. “They approached me as I was walking. One of them had an interest in astrology. His friend simply followed him along. I explained it to them briefly as I went on my way.” Had Hwang seen them going to Hongjoong’s window? Did he have people watching Seonghwa, just to attempt to find a mistake? 

“You spoke with the  _ servants _ ?” Hwang said, like the word were venom. 

“I encourage the pursuit of knowledge in all. I believe it is a trait all scholars should have.” 

Hwang cocked his head to the side. “So you have no objection to associating with those below your standing?” There it was. The knife. But Seonghwa was prepared for it. 

“When it comes to the passing of knowledge? Of course not. How could anyone possible learn anything if they could only rely upon those of their standing? The king himself was tutored by someone well below his social standing. The king interacts with us, of a lower standing, daily. Your question seems to be implying that I would tear apart the social hierarchy with my bear hands. But I simply believe that knowledge can come from someone lower than yourself. I learn much from Yeosang, despite his youth.” 

Hwang looked ready to tear Seonghwa apart with his bare hands, enraged by the calm of his voice. 

Seonghwa lifted an eyebrow. “Have you any other inquiries, demands, or accusations, Councilor? Because I have reports to examine before adding them to the libraries, if you are finished.” 

Hwang made a dark noise in the back of his throat, turning and storming to the door, tearing it open and allowing it to slam into the wall with a loud bang. He whipped around, glaring at Seonghwa. “You had best watch that tongue, scholar,” he growled. “You will find that it brings you nothing but trouble.” 

“Is that a threat, Councilor?” he asked, straightening. 

“It is a  _ promise _ ,” he spat. 

“Then here is my promise to you,” Seonghwa declared, voice a little louder. “Whatever crack in my walls you are attempting to exploit, you will not find it. I am loyal to the king, and I  _ invite  _ you to attempt to find anything questionable among my actions. It will be time well wasted.” 

Hwang sucked in a sharp breath, eyes fiery as he stepped out, slamming the door shut behind him, making the bookshelves quake against the wall. 

There was a ringing silence as Seonghwa continued to stare at the door, as if waiting for him to return. His hands shook as he lowered them, gripping the desk tightly. 

“Master,” Yeosang said, voice small. “Master, what does he know?”

“Nothing,” Seonghwa croaked roughly, anger bubble in his veins. “He has done this before, and gotten the same results. His questions were to try and make my tongue slip. He wanted me to admit something, suggest something- but he is a fool. He thinks age is equated with cleverness. But the old man cannot even believe he could be bested by a younger man.” 

Seonghwa breathed deeply, trying to calm the storm in his stomach. 

“Are you alright, Master?” Yeosang had stepped closer, expression reserved but concerned. 

“Fine,” he said shortly. “It is a simple irritant.  _ God _ , I hate that man,” he hissed, lifting a hand and running it through his hair. “I do not need this atop everything else.” He sighed roughly, sinking into his chair and staring at the grains of the wood. “It is fine,” he said firmly, closing his eyes. “Hwang knows nothing- can  _ prove  _ nothing. If he could, he would not waste his breath speaking to me.” 

There was silence as both men caught their breaths. “Why does he hate you so?” Yeosang asked. 

“All the councilors hate me,” Seonghwa scoffed, almost amused by their bitterness. “But Hwang despises anyone who stops him from getting what he wants. He hated my master before me, as well. I am not special in gaining his displeasure. But my age would simply add insult to injury, I suppose.” 

“What will you do about what he said?” Yeosang inquired carefully, hands twisting before himself. 

“Nothing,” Seonghwa said easily, lifting his head. “Hwang loves to try and stir up trouble for me. In honesty, he has never been quite so explicit before, but perhaps he is growing tired of our game. Giving him attention would only increase his suspicion.” 

Yeosang did not look convinced, but nodded. “Then… what will you do now?” 

Seonghwa’s desired answer was: race to Hongjoong and forget about every horrible part of his life. Was it purely coincidence that Hwang’s accusations lined up with Hongjoong’s condition? It felt so much as if everything was slowly spinning out of Seonghwa’s control. 

Not that he had much control before, to begin with. But it seemed, in his pessimistic mindset, that something was coming to a head. Something he may not have even been aware was building. 

“Well, first I have these reports to finish reviewing. And after that, it will likely be too late to do much, so I will retire to bed early.” 

“Master, how can you-” 

“You are new to this life, Yeosang,” Seonghwa was sternly. “Hongjoong and I have been playing this game for nearly a decade. We are well versed in its rules and dangers.” His expression softened slightly, taking some of the tightness around his eyes. “Your concern is appreciated, but understand that Hongjoong and I know what we are doing. We have survived darker times than this.” 

His side twinged as if in memory. 

Yeosang nodded obediently, some of the light trying to flicker back within his eyes that had been dark since yesterday afternoon. “I just pray that you are safe.” 

Seonghwa’s lips lifted slightly. “Worry about your next lesson with Wooyoung, rather than my problems. Are you sure you can force him to sit still for an entire chapter of  _ Raising Livestock _ ?” 

Yeosang’s expression lightened slightly, as if against his will as he smiled gently at the thought of the other boy. Seonghwa didn’t know how he could have missed it, Yeosang practically glowing at the mention of the boy. Seonghwa wondered if he still looked like that when Hongjoong was mentioned… . 

“He is interested in nature books,” Yeosang said firmly. “It is history that sends him running.” 

Seonghwa smiled, bidding him to return to work, even as a dark pain swirled in his chest. He would not allow anything bad to happen. Not to Hongjoong. Not to Yeosang. Not to anyone. He was merely overwhelmed by everything. He needed to be rational. 

He would visit Hongjoong within the next couple of days, and they would discuss everything. 

Everything would be alright. Hongjoong would be alright. 

(It did nothing to ease his concerns, and he spent the entire evening physically fighting back the urge to be ill every time he thought about Hongjoong, alone in his room, after such a violent scare.) 

(That night, he awoke to nightmares of being torn away from Hongjoong, phantom pains clinging to his side and limbs. He gasped through the sting of imaginary blows, eyes wet and hands shaking where they clutched at the blankets, wishing they were another body he could cling to.) 


	4. The Weight of Rebellion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I really do feel as though with each chapter, the quality of writing has gone down, which is awful because the plot is getting serious. I tried really hard to get this one right but I’m still not 100% happy with how it turned out.   
> Again, let me know if it’s garbage that I need to start over with ;)   
> I really am just so tired of rereading this chapter so I’m just gonna post it and then hide under my bed. It’s 2AM and I just wanted to stop making you all wait for something that wasn’t getting any better~_~  
> Thank you to everyone commenting! You guys give me th confidence to actually post these things!   
> -SS

Seonghwa watched for Hongjoong. 

His entire world felt shifted after everything, trying to see him, trying to discern if he was recovered from his episode, trying to shake off the last dregs of his own fear attached to it. 

But Hongjoong was thrown into yet another meeting, and Seonghwa could only pray and beg whatever deity that may be listening to please, please let Hongjoong be alright. Seonghwa hated himself for not disregarding his words, hating himself for not cursing what Hongjoong ordered and simply sneaking back into his room just to be with him- 

Just to help him. Comfort him. Because if not Seonghwa, who would? 

The words of his scrolls were blurry as he could not bring himself to focus on them, mind a million miles away and eyes even farther. 

He heard Yeosang asking something, but he was fairly sure it was just a query about his health, so Seonghwa simply hummed, not even trying to look away. 

He just felt numb. Scared. Apprehensive. And he knew the only way to shed that grime would be to see Hongjoong, to hold him, to speak with him. But he was aware, just as well as he knew anything, that it could be several days before he even got a chance to peek at Hongjoong. 

He lowered his head into his hands, sighing heavily, ignoring Yeosang’s heavy gaze on him.  _ Please _ , he begged.  _ Just be alright.  _

 

~~~~~

 

Yeosang sat beside Wooyoung in the stables, a respectable distance between them as Yeosang stared at the book in his lap, not even seeing the page. The silence between them had lasted many minutes since Yeosang had trailed off. Wooyoung allowed him his time, used to the prolonged silences, though usually they were not so dark and somber. 

A rough hand slipped into his smooth one, squeezing lightly. “Do you want to talk about it?” Wooyoung asked quietly, glancing at the door of the stables nervously. 

They had both been on high alert since Hongjoong discovered them, nerves a little shot from the scare of being caught in such a compromising position. Yeosang’s heart still thudded painfully every time he thought back to seeing the king himself staring at them. Yeosang squeezed Wooyoung’s hand back tightly. 

Suddenly, Yeosang understood his master so much more. The fear of another knowing, the fear of discovery… 

His master’s once seemingly idiotic urge to separate himself from the king when he feared that people may begin to suspect him…. Yeosang was foolishly ignorant, his own body demanding that he push Wooyoung away, for his sake, to no longer endanger him by Yeosang’s presence. 

“I am merely thinking,” Yeosang assured him quietly. “About too many things.” 

“The king?” Wooyoung pressed hesitantly. Yeosang hummed affirmatively, and Wooyoung laced their fingers together. “He’s fine, is he not?” 

“He is, but that is not what concerns me,” he confessed, shifting his eyes from his tome to their interlocked fingers. “I am occupied over what the king told me.” 

“About us being careful?” Yeosang nodded. Wooyoung frowned slightly. “Are you… going to stop coming?” 

In truth, Yeosang didn’t know what he should do. He had assured his master that avoiding the king was not necessary, and yet Yeosang was about to take such a cowardly route as well. He felt guilt at how callously he acted towards his master. 

“I do not wish to,” Yeosang assured him. “Our lessons are not scandalous. We simply must be more careful while occupied with… other things.”

At the mention of their antics, Wooyoung would usually grin, sly and slick as a cat, but he simply nodded solemnly- too solemn for Yeosang’s liking. The apprentice managed a smile. “It will all work out. If the king and my master are able to see each other, with so much more surrounding them, we shall be fine as well.” He squeezed Wooyoung’s hand once more. 

The stable boy lifted his eyes, searching Yeosang’s face for a moment, before a weight lifted from his shoulders and he nodded, lips twitching. “We simply need to be more aware of what is around us.” 

Yeosang nodded, and Wooyoung glanced at the stable door that was still closed and silent. He leaned forward quickly, pressing his lips to Yeosang’s and it became that much harder for Yeosang to justify separating the two of them. 

It was a dangerous thing, how safe it felt to be with Wooyoung. Of course, they knew the danger, but it was so easy, so  _ enticing _ , to just fall into him and forget everything around them. It was so wholly freeing and exhilarating, having someone to touch and be touched by. 

Yeosang cupped the back of his head, pulling him forward, but there was a part of his mind watching the door as Wooyoung shifted to face him more fully, easing the kiss deeper. Hands fluttered around each other, and Wooyoung pulled away all too quickly, their hands slipping out of each others as Wooyoung returned to a respectable distance. 

He smiled at Yeosang, a bit more carefree, a bit more sly, and settled against the bales of hay behind them. “Now,” he said, resting his hand between them to brace himself as he leaned towards Yeosang to see the page. “What of rivers?” 

Yeosang smiled, shifting to show him the page more clearly, and resting his hand on the ground as well, their fingers brushing slightly. “They are crucial to civilization,” he explained gently. “People and animals flock to them…” 

Yeosang thought about what Mingi had said… about Wooyoung speaking of their lessons, actually picking up on Yeosang’s speech… and perhaps he had embellished a bit too much, saying that Wooyoung paid no attention in their lessons. It was clear Wooyoung had some interest in learning, but Yeosang was beginning to suspect that perhaps it had more to do with the fact that it was Yeosang teaching, rather than an actual thirst for knowledge. 

Wooyoung was a dedicated student, who asked questions and nodded along with Yeosang. 

It was just alarmingly common for him to be “distracted by his lips” and get off track every couple of pages. 

(And even if Yeosang scolded him sternly for it, he never actually  _ complained  _ about the lack of attention.) 

It was so easy to become lost and ignore the warning signs casting their shadows. 

 

~~~~~~

 

Seonghwa received, after weeks since the marriage meetings began, his first summons to Hongjoong’s chambers, requiring the scrolls on drought records of the passed decades. 

Truthfully, he would not be able to provide an answer if asked if he were elated or violently ill at the thought. Perhaps, he could be both. It had been few days since Hongjoong’s… episode, and Seonghwa had seen him, at best, from thirty feet up as he was forced into more meetings. Physically, he seemed better, not pale or gaunt, but even Seonghwa could see a weight on his shoulders. Seonghwa still needed to see for himself, to hear from Hongjoong’s mouth that he was not haunted. 

So, receiving the summons knotted Seonghwa’s chest into several thick bundles that hurt with each breath. He gathered the scrolls into his arms, walking along the halls with barely hidden apprehension, coming to Hongjoong’s chambers and waiting as the guard announced him. 

“Be cautious, scholar,” one of them gruffed, once he had been bidden to enter. “The physician says the king is still weak. Do not exhaust him.” 

Seonghwa inclined his head slowly. Still weak? After so many days?

He entered, sliding the door shut behind himself. 

Hongjoong sat at his desk, papers laid out before him, scrolls torn up and crumpled, scattered around his legs. He looked up when Seonghwa entered, and the strain around his eyes was not the usual pain of longing for each other, but the familiar headache that followed a problem he could not fix. 

Seonghwa entered, breathing out sympathetically as he set the scrolls down beside him. He folded his hands in his lap. “What do you need?” he asked gently, and Hongjoong simply dropped his head into his hands, ruining his hair in his hands, shoulders sagging. 

“Rain,” he muttered thickly. “Resources have not even begun to weaken, but the villages are all restless, demanding some sort of answer, as if I control the rains themselves-” He sighed harshly, and Seonghwa lifted a hand, resting it against Hongjoong’s  neck and squeezing the tense muscle there. 

He sighed gently, shoulders dropping as he leaned into the touch. “You will make me fall asleep,” he warned as Seonghwa continued to massage the tension from his neck. 

Seonghwa couldn’t help the way his lips turned up. “I assure you, there is nothing more I would like to see. Have you slept at all these days?” 

“It is not so bad,” Hongjoong assured him, voice vibrating with the pressure of Seonghwa’s fingers. “It is stress more than anything.” 

“So, your answer is: no.” Seonghwa wished there was something he could do. Wished he could just pull Hongjoong away from his work and make his rest, but there was the beginning of  crisis starting, and he could not be so selfish to draw him away from where he was needed. 

“I am so tired, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong sighed. “I have missed you so much, I did not think I could bear another day.” 

Seonghwa wanted to shove the scrolls away. To take him away from all this and just allow him to rest. But the sooner they fixed this, the sooner Hongjoong could finally sleep well. 

Seonghwa withdrew his hand, and Hongjoong remained still for a moment, as if building the energy to move. “We shall figure a solution. I will be with you through this,” he promised, shifting the scrolls and picking one. Hongjoong lifted his eyes to Seonghwa, slightly hooded and almost raw. “I have reviewed some of these over the weeks,” Seonghwa said, opening one, revealing lines of carefully detailed days of rain patterns. He pointed. “The springs are always the rainy seasons, but we have had a lesser one this year. Usually, though, there is another monsoon season later in the warmer weather, and if we can bide our time until then…” He glanced up at Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong’s eyes were distant, desperate, as if he were seeing something not truly before him. Seonghwa felt a hot coal settle in his chest. “Hongjoong?” he prompted gently, begging that he did not have to replay that scene from days before. “Did you hear what I was saying?” 

Hongjoong swallowed, and Seonghwa noticed his eyes shining, tears welling in them but not spilling. Seonghwa turned to him more fully, glancing at the door. “What?” he whispered, reaching for him with an unsure hand, brushing against his hand that rested against the table. “What is the matter? Are you in pain?” He glanced over his body, but found nothing, just an intense pain held within dark orbs that were wet. “Hongjoong, please, speak to me,” he begged quietly. “What-” 

“Run away with me.” 

Silence. 

Utter. Silence. 

Seonghwa felt like a vicious blow had just been delivered to his abdomen as he stared in shock and horror at the words that fell from Hongjoong’s lips like a gentle whisper. 

He waited for Hongjoong to laugh. To cry. To scream. 

Hongjoong simply stared. And then he shifted, flipping his hand on the table until he grasped Seonghwa’s hand in a weak grip that seemed to be all he could manage. “Please,” he whispered, blinking and making tears fall as he moved closer to Seonghwa, his other hand grabbing desperately at the sleeves of his robes. “Run away with me, Seonghwa,” he begged, eyes hurting in a way Seonghwa had seen once before. 

Run away… The two of them… 

 

_ “We could run away.”  _

_ Seonghwa physically jerked as his head snapped up from the book between them. The bandage around his waist shifted as he stared at Hongjoong in shock. Hongjoong quickly looked away, never able to look in Seonghwa’s slightly bruised eyes for long.  _

_ “What?” Seonghwa breathed, hot and cold rushing through his veins.  _

_ “We could run,” Hongjoong repeated, speaking to the wood of the table. “Go somewhere else. Another kingdom, where they do not know me. We could start over, we could be together.  You could be safe-”  _

_ Seonghwa captured Hongjoong’s hand in a tight grip that he fought for a moment (he had been fighting all of Seonghwa’s touches since That Night) but stopped after only a moment, lifting cautious, scared eyes to meet Seonghwa’s.  _

_ Seonghwa swallowed thickly. “Hongjoong,” he whispered, shattered. “I would run with you to the ends of the earth,” he swore quietly, and Hongjoong’s lip trembled, as if anticipating his next words. He shook his head slowly. “But you know we cannot.”  _

_ “Why-”  _

_ “The kingdom,” Seonghwa stressed quickly. “The people, the palace-”  _

_ “What have they done for me?” Hongjoong demanded, and Seonghwa quickly pressed a finger to his lip, silencing his raised voice. They waited with bated breath for a few moments before Seonghwa removed the silencer. Hongjoong glared. “This palace has been nothing but a burden. They keep us from each other for no reason but-”  _

_ “I know,” Seonghwa whispered, moving closer and raising a hand to cup Hongjoong’s cheek gently. He flinched but did not pull away. “I know, Hongjoong, but the palace is not who you owe your loyalty to. What of the villages? The people within this kingdom who need their king? What of the uproar and riots that may come in your absence? What of the officials who would likely hunt us down- possibly beginning a war with another kingdom for housing us-”  _

_ “Stop it,” Hongjoong snapped, jerking away from Seonghwa’s touch, tears falling faster as he scrubbed at them. “Stop- Do you not want to be together?” he demanded, and Seonghwa quickly caught his hands, pulling them into their laps as he stared at him desperately.  _

_ “Do not question my loyalty to you, Hongjoong,” He begged. “But understand that I could never live with myself… knowing what we would leave behind in our wake. The lives lost- I cannot be so selfish.” Seonghwa pressed his lips together, hands trembling where he rubbed his thumbs across the backs of Hongjoong’s hands. He stared at Hongjoong, counting the tears that fell silently. He brought Hongjoong’s hands up to his mouth, kissing them gently and closing his eyes against the pain in his chest. _

_ “Say the word, Hongjoong,” he whispered heavily, lips brushing his skin. “Give the word, and I will follow you anywhere. I will go, if you ask me to.”  _

_ “But you would hate yourself,” Hongjoong croaked, fingers curling into loose fists in Seonghwa’s grasp. “And me.”  _

_ “Never you,” Seonghwa promised quickly, lifting his eyes to watch Hongjoong’s dark ones, lost and afraid and angry. “But I would feel guilt in my heart for what we leave behind.”  _

_ Hongjoong’s head fell- a sign of defeat- and tears dripped onto his robes as his shoulders shook. Seonghwa hated himself. Hated the morals that forced him to force Hongjoong’s hand. If he truly wanted to be with Hongjoong… should he not just go? Just leave behind the men and people who beat him, simply for touching a prince?  _

_ But Seonghwa knew himself too well. The hole they would leave behind- that Hongjoong would leave behind- would haunt him for the rest of his days. The lives that road on their shoulders…  _

_ “I hate them,” Hongjoong hissed, hands drawing from Seonghwa’s to press against his eyes. “I hate them all for what they did to you- I hate them for what they do to us- I hate-”  _

_ Seonghwa fell forward, wrapping his arms around Hongjoong tight enough that his bruised limbs ached from the stress, but he simply tightened until it was painful. Hongjoong, for once, did not fight it, but fell against him, fists curling into the front of Seonghwa’s robes.  _

_ “I hate it,” He cried, hitting his fist weakly against Seonghwa’s chest. He didn’t even feel it through the robes. “I hate it, hate it, hate-” He choked off as a sob tore through his throat, and Seonghwa pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, eyes burning.  _

_ “I’m sorry,” he whispered against his hair, eyes squeezing shut. “I am sorry, Hongjoong, but I cannot- I-” He swallowed around the needle in his throat. “I would follow you,” he promised. “But we both know we cannot.”  _

_ Hongjoong sucked in shaking breath after shaking breath, still hitting Seonghwa’s chest weakly, as if every strike were a death blow to those between them. Seonghwa held him, heart rendered in two, whispering apology after apology because it was his fault. Anything that happened after this rejection was  _ his fault _.  _

 

Hongjoong’s knees pressed against his as he moved forward, eyes wild. “Please,” he begged. “Please, Seonghwa, just run with me. Away from here- Away from everything. We could just leave,  _ I just want to leave- _ ” 

Seonghwa grabbed Hongjoong’s robes and pulled him forward until his body crashed against him, eyes staring in blank pain as Hongjoong fisted his robes, tear stained face pressed to his shoulder as he continued to beg with stumbling words. 

“Just leave with me,” he pleaded weakly. “I am tired, Seonghwa,  _ I am so tired- _ ” 

“Shh,” Seonghwa soothed quickly, petting Hongjoong’s hair gently, his heart and tongue and mind in shambles against his cries. “Hongjoong,  _ Hongjoong _ ,” he whispered quickly, pressing him close, “Hongjoong, you know-  _ you know  _ we cannot-” He buried his nose in his hair, smelling the scent of blossoms, wishing with all  his heart to turn back time. 

Before he became king. 

Before they met. 

Seonghwa was sure not even the deepest layer of hell had pain close to the agony in his chest as Hongjoong continued to tug at him, pleading desperately, inconsolable, and Seonghwa was lost and dying because once again, he could not bring himself to answer Hongjoong’s plea. 

It was the one thing Hongjoong had ever asked of him. 

And it was the one thing Seonghwa could never give. 

“The people, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa whispered against his skin. “Remember the people, the villages- they all rely on you-” 

“I do not  _ care _ ,” he cried, muffled by Seonghwa’s robes, voice shaking with cries. “I do not care, I am so tired of it all, Seonghwa, I can no longer play this game, I will not survive another day in this hell-” 

Seonghwa crushed him against him, using all his strength to just try and stop his shaking, his sobs, his pain- It was all he could do. Because Seonghwa knew he could not allow Hongjoong to leave. They could not run. 

“We have duties, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa reminded him, hating every word that fell from his lips. “Duties to people and things much larger than ourselves. We cannot abandon-” 

“Please,” Hongjoong whispered against his chest, weak and exhausted. “Please… just say we will be free…” 

Seonghwa sighed, eyes stinging. 

He could not. 

His moral claim was only a fraction of the guilt that would eat at Hongjoong’s life if they were to run. Hongjoong may blame Seonghwa and his guilt, but Seonghwa knew he would face a guilt a thousand times worse, if Seonghwa allowed him to go. 

“We are part of things larger than ourselves, Hongjoong,” he murmured, tears burning trails down his cheeks. “We cannot be so selfish-” 

Hongjoong suddenly shoved Seonghwa away, glaring through the tears. “I am  _ tired  _ of being selfless-” The loudness of his voice sparked a natural reaction. 

Seonghwa leapt forward, covering his mouth with his hand, eyes wide and panicked as he glanced at the door. No one entered. He turned back, and found no more anger in Hongjoong’s eyes, like a paper thrown into a fire- flaring, and then nothing but ash. 

Hongjoong slumped forward, dead against Seonghwa’s chest. 

“Please,” he begged. “I am so tired of it all, Seonghwa…” 

Seonghwa wanted to give it to him. Relieving all of Hongjoong’s pain was within his grasp, completely within his power… And yet, Seonghwa continued to yank it away, like a string attached to a trap. “I’m sorry,” was all he could say. 

“Seonghwa-” 

“You are hurting,” He said quickly, squeezing his neck and massaging the muscle there. Hongjoong made a quiet sound at the sensation, falling more heavily against him. “You are upset, you are exhausted, and you are still living in the haunted shadows of that memory.” Seonghwa’s voice shook as tears fell, but he kept his voice even. “Do not throw it all away,” he whispered. “You must be strong, Hongjoong, you must realize-” 

Hongjoong’s nails dug through the fabric of his robes, shaking and angry and broken. 

Why could Seonghwa not just give in? 

Seonghwa lifted his hands, massaging his shoulders carefully, and Hongjoong moaned slightly as the fear-tension was rubbed away,  _ anything  _ to try and calm him from his panic. “I will be here with you,” Seonghwa promised in a hushed murmur. “I will do anything and everything you ask of me, Hongjoong… but I cannot do this. We would both never forgive ourselves.” 

He moved his hands down Hongjoong’s back, pressing against muscle as stiff as stone, and loosening them until Hongjoong was quiet and pliant against him. Seonghwa lifted one hand, wiping at the tears that clung to his cheeks. 

“I will always be with you,” he whispered, and he was not even sure Hongjoong was awake still. “I am so sorry, I cannot… I wish to be with you,” he begged silently, knowing it was a useless plea. “I would risk everything to be with you… but we have duties. We are a part of something bigger….” 

They sounded like nothing but cheap excuses to Seonghwa’s ears. 

Time had ticked by, and Seonghwa shifted Hongjoong until his limp body shifted, laying his head against the desk, as if he had simply dropped his head to sleep after a long day of work. Seonghwa stood, limbs heavy and stiff, scrubbing at his face to clear it of all evidence. He moved slowly to the door, pushing it open. 

“Fetch the physician,” he said calmly. “His Highness is not feeling well. Ask him to bring something to help him sleep.” 

One of the guards nodded, racing off, and Seonghwa turned to the other two. “Help me get him into his bed,” He ordered. 

They nodded, and though Seonghwa wanted to smack their hands away from Hongjoong, he could not risk participating. He bid them to be careful, and directed them until Hongjoong laid upon his bed, eyes closed and wet lashes brushing his cheeks. 

Seonghwa had to turn away. “I will leave and allow the physician space to work,” he said quietly, walking to the door. 

No sooner than he went to push it, did it burst open as Yunho and the other guard returned. Yunho took one look at the king and nodded. “Very well, all of you out,” he ordered, and Seonghwa made to follow the guards, but Yunho stopped him. “Scholar,” he said quickly. “I have questions for you, if you were with him before.” 

Seonghwa paused, the door still open, and nodded. “Certainly.” 

“What happened?” Yunho questioned as he stepped towards the door, examining Hongjoong’s body. 

“We were discussing the crops and droughts,” Seonghwa said, very aware of the lack of barrier between them and the guards. “It has been a great source of stress for him lately, and I think the subject was not good for him.” 

Yunho hummed, nodding absently. “He had said he was not sleeping well… This is most likely a result of that catching up to him.” Delicate fingers traced over the tear stains on the king’s cheek, and Yunho frowned. “Did he mention being in pain?” 

Seonghwa stiffened. “He did not.” 

The physician glanced at Seonghwa from the corner of his eye. “Were you truly speaking of crops?” he murmured, so quiet even Seonghwa barely heard him. “Or does it have to do with the original cause of this exhaustion that San mentioned to me…” 

Seonghwa wanted to run. Yunho knew… Was every servant in the palace privy to their lives? But the stress and bitterness in his heart did not even allow him to feel fear. 

“He wanted something of me,” Seonghwa whispered numbly. “Something I could not give him. It distressed him.” His heart tore. 

Yunho nodded, as if he needed no more explanation. He stood fully. “I will let him rest. I will leave something to help him sleep for when he wakes up. For now, that is all we can do.” His voice dropped. “And, perhaps, resolve what caused this.” 

Seonghwa had to laugh, weak and bitter. “It will never be resolved,” he murmured. “Not as long as we live.” 

Yunho blinked, eyes saddened, as if he had revealed something truly heartbreaking. “It is dangerous to think like that,” he warned. “Our thoughts can influence our reality too easily.” 

What could Yunho possibly know? As if wishing for it would make anything better. It could never be resolved. Because they could not run, and they would never truly be together while they resided within this palace. 

“I will take my leave now,” Seonghwa said, turning away. “Please, take care of His Majesty’s health.” 

Whether Yunho had something more to say or not, Seonghwa left, back down the halls, but not returning to the tower. He could not bear Yeosang’s curious eyes or a councilor’s incessant questions- 

He found his chambers, bare and neat, and closed himself within them, heart rising in his throat until he could not breathe. He sat upon his bed, trying to calm himself. 

_ Run away with me.  _

What had this life ever given him? Why did he not just leave? 

_ Run away with me.  _

When had their lives become so dark? Seonghwa could not remember such darkness following them since the time they were discovered. His stomach churned at the thought of something brewing, something ready to snap. 

Why did he continue to deprive Hongjoong of the one thing that could bring them  _ peace _ ? 

_ Run away with me.  _

But he could not. And for that, he hated himself more viciously than any councilor could ever hope to. 

 

~~~~~

Hongjoong woke late in the night, entire body aching and hollow. He stared at the intricate design etched into the ceiling of his room, counting the curves and loops through the lead encasing his heart. There was silence around him, and he tilted his heavy head to the side, seeing a small vial on his bedside table with a note in Yunho’s writing. 

_ Take it to help you sleep.  _

Hongjoong ignored it, and sat up with difficulty, his head pounding as he rested it in his hands. 

_ I will do anything and everything you ask of me, Hongjoong… but I cannot do this. _

This could not continue. He would not be able to keep up with his rapidly collapsing world. He glanced over at his desk, the scrolls still scattered around, the ones that Seonghwa brought still open. How selfish he was… 

_ I would risk everything to be with you…  _

He dragged himself over, sitting among them. 

_ We are a part of something bigger…. _

He was so tired. 

He lifted his eyes to a shelf against the wall. It held legal scrolls and records he had been gathering since this issue began. 

Hongjoong stood, as if possessed, and grabbed a stack of scrolls, dropping them at his table. 

He truly was losing his mind. 

He shoved aside Seonghwa’s scrolls and picked up the new ones he had grabbed. 

But if it was never going to get better on its own, it was his responsibility to change. 

For better or worse. 

 

~~~~~

 

“Are you hurting?”

Yeosang glanced up, not even realizing he had fallen silent in the middle of a sentence. “No,” he said quickly, offering Wooyoung a weak smile. “It is nothing.” 

Wooyoung scoffed where he tossed hay within a stall, tossing his hair from his face. There was a piece of straw stuck in it. “You are not as good of a liar as you think. You have been distracted all day.” 

“There is a very important meeting tomorrow with the king,” Yeosang excused. “All the council, the village leaders- they will all gather to discuss the plan to wait out the slight drought.” 

Wooyoung hummed. “And that would be a perfectly reasonable excuse, if you were not appearing to be on the verge of throwing that book in your lap.” 

Yeosang tried to school his expression into something less frustrated, and Wooyoung simply shook his head slowly. Yeosang sighed, admitting defeat and lowering his head. “My master had been… violently distressed these passed couple of days,” He said quietly. “After his visit to the king’s chambers, he hardly even speaks. He looks as if he had not slept in weeks. He is…  _ destroyed  _ by something. And I  _ know  _ it has to do with the king, but he will not answer my queries, and simply urges me to focus on my studies.” His brow furrowed in annoyance. “Does he not understand I wish to help?” 

Wooyoung had paused his work, and set his pitchfork against the wall, stepping closer to Yeosang. “You have assured me that your master was a good man.” 

“He  _ is _ . Which is why I wish to ease his mind.” 

Wooyoung nodded sympathetically. “Then you have to trust that he will confide when he is ready to. Your urges will be useless against him. You cannot be so obstinate. Simply allow him his time.”

Despite himself, Yeosang chuckled. “‘Obstinate,’” he echoed. “Perhaps Mingi is right, and you are actually listening when I speak.” 

Wooyoung laughed softly, standing before Yeosang and leaning down to his level. “I listen to each and every thing that comes out of your mouth,” he promised, a glint in his eyes. “Including all the pretty noises-” 

Yeosang yelped, slapping a hand over his mouth quickly as his cheeks flushed.  “ _ Stop that _ ,” he hissed. 

Wooyoung laughed around his hand, pulling it away and stepping back. “That is not what you demanded before. When I kissed you-” 

“Wooyoung, I will exit this stable right this moment,” he threatened, lowering his eyes to stare at the page. 

“Shall we try another location for our escapade?” he teased. 

“ _ Wooyoung- _ ” 

He laughed, clutching the pitchfork and leaning on it, turning to Yeosang with warm eyes dancing with mirth. “Truly, you are too flustered at a few words, considering how you act with the two of us.” 

Yeosang smoothed his robes properly, lifting his eyes firmly, and not balking under his gaze. “Perhaps your body is simply nicer than your mouth.” 

Rather than being offended, Wooyoung smirked. “I would hope so,” he said confidently. “My body is my pride. I shall leave the pretty words to you.” 

Yeosang rolled his eyes, leaning back on his hands and lifting an eyebrow as Wooyoung continued to turn the hay. “Which pretty words?” he questioned, his own lips turning up unconsciously. “The ones where I tell you how enticing you are?” 

Wooyoung chuckled, nodding. “Yes, those.” 

Yeosang stood, eyes trailing to the door before finding Wooyoung again. Slim body and wind swept hair and eyes that were always dancing brightly.  “For example, when I call you beautiful?”

“I am not beautiful,” Wooyoung fought, chuckling. “I keep telling you, you are the one with the more delicate features.” 

Yeosang approached him leisurely, hands behind his back. “But you are,” he pressed, making Wooyoung glance up from his work. “And I will use all the pretty words necessary to describe it to you. You, Wooyoung, are beautiful,” he said, voice low. He paused before Wooyoung who glanced him up and down, seemingly a little excited as Yeosang brushed a hand over his arm. “Beautiful...exquisite… ravishing…” He pulled on his arm until Wooyoung stepped closer, their chests almost touching as Yeosang trailed calm eyes over his face. “Resplendent… bewitching…” He leaned closer, their lips barely brushing, Wooyoung lifting a hand to grab Yeosang’s arm that came to rest against his chest. “Voluptuous… pulchritudinous…”

Wooyoung blinked, pulling away to frown. “What was that last one?”

Yeosang couldn’t even be disappointed at his withdrawal, a laugh on his tongue. “Pulchritudinous,” He repeated, slower. “It means ‘breathtaking.’”  

Wooyoung wrinkled his nose. “It does not sound like a good thing. You are not taking advantage of my lack of knowledge, are you? Does it truly mean something akin to ‘the breath of a donkey’?”

Yeosang snorted, grabbing him and pulling him closer again, foreheads tapping as he smiled. “I swear to you, it means beautiful. We can check within the library when you are finished, if you do not believe me.” 

Wooyoung still stared at him in suspicion, but it faded slowly. “I will trust you,” he said slowly. “But know that I will check later.” 

“Yes, and that is later, but this is now,” Yeosang said. “What will you do now, my pulchritudinous love?” 

Wooyoung looked ready to tease him more, but simply wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling Yeosang flush against him and kissing him. Their heights were near equal, but Wooyoung simply rose on the balls of his feet to deepen the kiss, tongue warm and soft against Yeosang’s as he tilted to accommodate. 

How easy it was to get lost in Wooyoung. But each time he felt himself slipping, the king’s words echoed within in his mind, and he focused on the sounds around them, waiting to hear the creak of the door or the sound of voices. 

He ran a hand through the strands of Wooyoung’s hair, curling them around his fingers and tugging playfully. Wooyoung responded by digging his fingers into Yeosang’s waist, which made him yelp against his mouth, and Wooyoung laughed at him, so it was not much of a kiss anymore, but they did not part. 

Yeosang risked a few more moments pressed against each other, one ear on the door, but his mind focused wholly on the boy in his arms. Everything would be alright, he firmly believed. If he had Wooyoung at his side, what could he not face? Yeosang understood his master’s distress, knowing the king was… ill or whichever excuse they used to cover for themselves. But he could only pray that the king returned to himself, and his master was able to be happy again. 

But it was so easy to forget all those worries as Wooyoung tugged him back down for another kiss, quicker this time, biting Yeosang’s lip gently, making him pull aware and glare. A familiar game, that left them both with laughter in their chests. 

Both so wholly unaware of the storm brewing outside of their little world. 

 

~~~~~

 

Seonghwa could not place the tightness of his chest. 

It was not any sort of negative emotion- not fear or anger- nor anything good. But it was worrisome. Apprehensive. 

Like the feeling of missing a step in the dark. 

He fixed his robes once more, prepared for the council meeting to discuss the crops. He had felt off kilter since his meeting the previous afternoon with Hongjoong, like he was constantly tilted to the left and trying to walk straight. 

_ Run away with me.  _

He shook the thoughts from his skin. But he hoped that seeing him in the meeting might soothe part of that concern. Even if he did not seem well, just seeing Hongjoongmight loosen this feeling in his chest. Seonghwa closed his eyes for a moment. 

Let the meeting go well, he prayed. Allow Hongjoong to rest. Allow him time to center himself, to pull himself away from the edge he seemed to be creeping up to. Everything may right itself, once these issues were resolved. 

“Master, we must leave soon for the meeting,” Yeosang’s gentle voice drifted. 

He hummed to show he had heard, but did not respond. Just… have everything work out, he prayed. Do not let the council nor villagers be angered by Hongjoong’s decision, whatever it may be. 

He opened his eyes with a quiet sigh. “I am ready.” 

He truly, truly was not. 

 

~~~~~

 

The Royal Hall was packed. On either side of the aisle, the council, advisors, and ambassadors stood, in their robes and grim faces. 

In the middle of the aisle, thirty head villagers from around the kingdom gathered in their rags and mismatched, sewn clothes. They huddled together, eyes hidden and averted as they awaited the king himself. 

Hongjoong felt as if he might fall through the floor. He had slept absolutely none the night before. Seonghwa had left him yesterday, and he had been walking in a trance since then, disgusted and angered with himself for how selfish and stupid he had been. 

Not to the people. To Seonghwa. 

It was like throwing the marriage into his face once again. Hongjoong knew- he  _ knew-  _ Seonghwa and he could never leave. He knew and yet he was still foolish enough to hurt him like that- to demand he leave, that he throw away their lives, that he accuse him and become angered with him for refusing his ridiculous demands- 

It still clung to his skin- that desire to run- but he no longer entertained it as viable. It remained what it had always been: a risky fantasy that he dreamt of during the night and could never bring to fruition. 

But, oh God, he was about to risk something entirely different. 

We cannot be selfish, they said. 

We cannot take the risk, they said. 

Hongjoong’s grip tightened on the scroll, crushing it slightly. It was not too late. He could still let it all go. He could still resign himself, he could still keep them safe- 

If this harmed Seonghwa… Hongjoong would never forgive himself. 

_ Why was he doing this?  _ He wanted to scream. Why was he risking them, why was he putting Seonghwa in danger- 

He couldn’t. He couldn’t take it anymore. He could no longer stand the pain and suffering and separation and hiding and  _ agony-  _

_ Ten years _ . 

Ten years of dying for each other. Ten years of creeping, of wanting, of ripping, of dying for each other, of threats of marriage that would permanently shove them apart- 

He could not  _ take it  _ anymore. 

Hongjoong would never give Seonghwa up- not to spare his very  life. But, selfishly, he would risk everything- for what? The microscopic chance he was taking? 

There was no manner of action to take in which this ended well. No way it ended in anything but pain and danger. So why was he still holding the scroll? Burn it, he urged himself as he entered the Hall, sitting down and staring at the small table before him that held the scrolls. Burn that thing that would hurt him-

He just wanted it to end. It had been days without sleep, without peace, without Seonghwa- 

Hongjoong was losing his mind. It almost made him want to laugh.  _ He was losing his mind _ . His little episode was nothing compared to this- at least then, he had no sense of control. He was  _ deciding  _ to do this, now. He was making this a reality. 

He was ruining them. 

He was going to kill them. But he had to. 

He would not survive losing Seonghwa. But he would never survive constantly being denied him, as he had been. How he had lasted ten years of this dance seemed impossible now.  

The Hall bowed as he sat. 

How selfish he was. He could not even take the little he was allowed and be content. He always had to want more. 

But what if it worked? (The hope fluttered like a butterfly with a broken wing: even it knew it was going to die at the hands of something too much stronger than itself.) 

The hall was silent as Hongjoong picked up one of the scrolls in the small pile of them, unrolling it and addressing the room with a numbness in his limbs. It was as if someone else was controlling him, using his voice. 

Don’t do it, he begged himself. 

The Hall and villagers listened with rapt respect. 

“-And despite the advice of my council,” Hongjoong continued to monotone, eyes trailing his own writing, “The palace will not demand more from the villages. Rather, my council will decide what the palace needs, and whatever can be spared will be distributed back to the village.” 

The council stared in shock and anger. The village leaders cried in relief, grabbing each other and shaking their friends, as if they were in a dream. He heard it as if he were underwater. 

“Within the day, you will return to your villages with all the palace can spare.” Hongjoong’s felt like he was placed atop one of those spinning tops children played with. 

Seonghwa had told him this strategy before, after a fire had destroyed crops.

_ “The palace has so much. No one but you would ever have the humbleness to admit that there are others who need it more.”  _

It had not been necessary to implement because the neighboring village had had a surplus crop, but Hongjoong knew that now this was the only answer to the problem he had been facing. Temporary, but it should last them until the next rains fell, as Seonghwa had promised they would. 

Seonghwa was always there, guiding him on what to do. Providing the answers to his hardest questions as easily as a child answered what color the sky was. 

He was always beside Hongjoong, as reliable and steady as an old oak tree he rested beneath. 

And what was Hongjoong about to do? Cut and burn and destroy an ancient presence. 

If Seonghwa knew, he would be begging Hongjoong to stop. 

He was so tired. 

Hongjoong lifted his eyes from the scrolls, barely hearing the villagers shouting thanks and praise. The council shook with rage. He could see Councilor Hwang’s fists at his sides, expression dark. Hongjoong did not wish to see him. He turned to the other side of the aisle. There were scholars and ambassadors… 

Yeosang looked stunned, glancing around as if seeing if he had heard correctly. 

Seonghwa watched Hongjoong. Seonghwa smiled weakly, something like pride shining in his eyes as the villagers were near tears with relief. Hongjoong would usually be elated under such praise. He would ride the high of having made Seonghwa proud for  _ days _ . 

His expression only remained dead and stiff. Seonghwa’s smile slowly faded, brows furrowing, silently asking a question at his countenance. The sounds of the hall seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them, staring. His eyes flickered around Hongjoong’s face as he continued to stare at him, much too long, too long around too many people- 

Seonghwa swallowed, looking scared as Hongjoong tore his gaze away. 

“But I have one more announcement,” he said, and the shouts slowly died to hushed, excited whispers. The council seemed to be pressing forward, as if daring him to make another ridiculous claim. 

Hongjoong’s hands shook. 

Do not do it, he begged as he grabbed the scroll. Just be content, be happy with what you have- 

He was going to kill them both. It was a horrible, dark, and twisted thought, but Hongjoong had to hope it would work. 

What did he have left but hope? Dull, flickering, dying against the onslaught of demands, marriages, suspicion, pain- 

Seonghwa was watching him, confused and scared, as Hongjoong unfurled the scroll, almost dropping it as his hands trembled. 

“I-” His voice failed. 

Last chance, his mind whispered. Last chance, and then you lose him forever. 

Not just him. Wooyoung. Yeosang. 

Mingi. San. Jongho. Everyone who risked their lives for the two of them. Did he throw it all away? 

Seonghwa just stared at him, terrified, as if he were about to leap out and run to him. Hongjoong couldn’t look at him, heart twisting and turning and tearing- 

“I have decided,” he said, voice carrying in the silent hall. He wet his lips. “I have reviewed many of the laws we have set for our land… and I have seen that many of them are good and true. They prot-” He failed once more, gritting his teeth. “They protect us and my people… And I, as king, would never abuse my ability to create… or change these laws.” 

He glanced up. 

Seonghwa’s eyes were wide and horrified, mouth open slightly as he shook his head imperceptibly, his sharp, beautiful mind already catching on, already begging him not to- 

“But I have seen one law in particular…that I believe has no place among those that protect us. It is useless and inept, providing nothing but a division between my subjects and my people.” 

_ Please _ , he could practically hear Seonghwa shouting.  _ Do not _ . 

“There is a law, created well before the time of my father. It states that there be a line of propriety between any persons of differing classes.” 

_ Stop _ . 

“A person of noble birth is to be disgraced if they are found to have intimate relations with someone of a lower status.” A shaking breath. “This law provides no protection, no actual benefit to anyone. Aside from those who simply wish to cling to a false belief that they are better than another due to their position at birth, a position that one has no say in. A position that is brought about by pure chance.” He swallowed. “A position that says nothing of a person’s soul...loyalty...or worth compared to another.” 

He took a breath, lowering the scroll. 

“It is for these reasons that I have declared this law null and void, effective with the crest of the kingdom.” He turned the scroll, showing the wax seal that stood at the bottom like a punctuation mark. 

A gavel. 

A knife driven home. 

He was so tired. 

The whole world stood still. 

And then it ripped itself apart. 

Screaming. Yelling. Cries of outrage. The councilors, the ambassadors, the advisors- they surged forward, yelling arguments and demands, hands shaking and fists raised. 

Hongjoong did not even feel fear as he stared at their anger. 

The doors bust open as palace guards rushed in at the sudden commotion, disoriented and confused, weapons raised and trying to find the source, trying to locate what had caused the riot. The other councilors rushed towards Hongjoong’s throne, as if intending to pull him from it themselves, shoving villagers out of their way. They were yelling demands and complaints, demands and threats. But Hongjoong couldn’t even hear beyond the rushing of blood in his veins.

What had he done? 

“Seize the head scholar!” 

Like a punch to his gut, Hongjoong snapped out of his haze, eyes falling on Hwang who pointed across the hall, eyes murderous. 

_ No. _

Guards obeyed his shout, the one assured order they had been given in the confusion, running to the opposite side of the aisle, so blindly trusting that they were doing something right. 

Yeosang was yelling something, eyes wide as he grabbed Seonghwa, trying to pull him away. Seonghwa tried to jerk away as the first guard grabbed his arm. The scholar turned and shoved Yeosang back, his mouth moving in an order so sharp, there was no way it could be disobeyed. He was pulled from the group of scholars, more guards surrounding him as Seonghwa fought their hold, stumbling and falling, but the guards jerked him back up. 

“ _ Seonghwa _ !” 

Hongjoong hadn’t even realized the horrible scream came from him as he jerked forward a step until Seonghwa’s head snapped to look at him, eyes wide and afraid. 

Another guard grabbed his other arm, yanking Seonghwa towards the doors. His face was pale, terrified, eyes desperate to keep sight of Hongjoong as he struggled against the guard. 

“ _ Hongjoong _ !” 

The cry was not something Hongjoong had ever heard fall from Seonghwa’s lips. It was wild and abandoned and raw- pure fear and desperation manifesting in a name. He was reaching for him, reaching  _ out to him _ , and Hongjoong took another numb step. Why was he not running to him? 

Hongjoong almost fell over the table, rushing forward, arm outstretched-

 

A hand caught his arm, and he whipped around, prepared to fight and strike and kill whoever was trying to stop him- 

Mingi caught his flailing limb, eyes dark as he pulled Hongjoong away from the throne. Away from the mass of people. Away from Seonghwa. “We have to go,” he ordered. 

Hongjoong fought him. Yanking and pulling and hands scrambling to pry Mingi’s hands off of him. 

God, did Hongjoong fight his hardest, but Mingi dragged him off of the pedestal his throne sat on, ignorant to Hongjoong’s cries. 

Seonghwa still pulled and fought the guards on him, and Hongjoong thought he cried his name again. 

A guard struck Seonghwa across the head with his fist to stop his resistance, Seonghwa jerking to the side and falling. 

“ _ Seonghwa- _ “ he could think of nothing else to say. Fear clouded his mind. He could not even hear his own blood pumping. Maybe it had stopped flowing. 

_ Please, he has done nothing- _

What had he done?

Mingi yanked Hongjoong hard enough to jar his arm, but the king did not let up his struggles, not until Mingi was dragging him through the doors of the Royal Hall and into the hallway beyond it. 

Hongjoong lost sight of Seonghwa. 

“Let me go!” Was that him screaming?

“We need to go, Your Highness,” Mingi said, unrelenting. “It’s not safe-“

“They will kill him!” He cried desperately, eyes burning as his vision blurred. “They will kill him, I have-“ His voice faltered but his struggles did not. 

He stared in horror as the Royal Hall’s door grew smaller as Mingi practically carried Hongjoong away. 

“I have killed him.”

Mingi did not answer. And that, more than anything else, made Hongjoong falter. Not even a lying reassurance could pass his lips. 

“What have I done,” he whispered hoarsely, eyes haunted. 

Mingi pushed open the door of Hongjoong’s room and pushed him inside. “Until it’s safe, you must remain here,” he ordered, as if Hongjoong were not the king himself. 

Hongjoong shook his head, wanting to bolt, wanting to run, but his limbs would not obey him. “Seonghwa-“

“There is nothing we can do for him,” Mingi stressed firmly, eyes fierce. “I will send someone after him, but you must stay here.”

“I’ve killed him,” Hongjoong whispered, turning away from Mingi, who hesitated, but slid the door shut, allowing him privacy to a moment he could not provide to aid to. Hongjoong fell to his knees, the sound echoing in his ears like a gavel. He curled over his knees, fingers threading into his hair. 

“ _ What have I done?”  _

In that moment, Hongjoong knew that it was only right that angered villagers and councilors burst into his room. Only right that they drag him out for trying to change what could never be changed. 

It was only right that he die. 

He had killed the one he had promised to protect. He had ignored every thought that begged him to stop. Selfishly,  _ knowingly _ , he had sent him to his death. 

For what?

Being unable to just be happy. Just be content. Just live with Seonghwa instead of demanding more and more and more-

Mingi did not enter at his cries. He did not peek into the room, even when the sounds and yells of anger and sadness and bitterness grew loud. 

Hongjoong did not even hear himself, clutching his chest. 

He thought he knew what pain was. He thought that pulling away, that being separated, that seeing Seonghwa hurt was pain. He thought he knew true agony, thinking he would die another day locked in this hell. 

He had not known what hell was. 

Seonghwa. 

_ Please _ , he begged with his last breath.  _ Please, keep him safe.  _

Who was he begging? The gods? Their little friends around the castle? The universe and stars themselves?

_ Please _ , he begged.  _ He has done nothing. He is not the one who deserves to die. Take me. Everything- my life, my station, everything- _

_ Do not take him.  _

_ Do not take my everything.  _

Hongjoong cried and begged and screamed. 

He was given no response as the sun began to set. He curled tighter around himself, frightened and alone. 

Do not take him. 

Please. 

What have I done? 

_ Please _ . 

 

~~~~~

 

It was dark outside. 

Midnight had surely passed. 

Hongjoong did not move, hollow and empty as a rotted log. 

Mingi had not entered, had not brought any news. By this time, he was surely… 

He could not even think it anymore. He simply existed, heart made of lead, and nothing else to show he was even alive. 

He made out the vague sound of something tapping. He ignored it, not caring what was making the sound. 

It returned, harder, and Hongjoong exerted the monumental effort to lift his head, muscles aching from stiffness. 

_ TapTapTapTapTaptap-  _

Hongjoong’s heart leapt to his throat. Eyes wide, he braced himself on weak hands, shoving his shaking legs beneath himself and pushed himself to his feet, stumbling as feeling slowly returned to his muscles. He practically fell over the window, shoving it open, barely daring to hope-

Yunho stared back at him, a bruise on his face and dried blood just beneath his nose. 

Hongjoong deflated, cursing the mind of his that even dared to suggest Seonghwa- 

Yunho glanced behind himself quickly. “Come, Your Highness,” he hissed, waving a beckoning hand. “We do not have time.” 

Hongjoong didn’t understand. “I cannot run, Yunho,” he said, voice cracked and dry as paper. “I  will not abandon a hell I created for myse-” 

“That is very noble,” Yunho agreed quickly, glancing around again. “But we are not running, we have somewhere to be, now  _ come _ .” He reached up, grasping Hongjoong’s wrist and pulling. 

Hongjoong stumbled, not understanding, not comprehending, everything was too much, but he felt nothing. He leaned out the window, legs and limbs moving of their own accord, which was good because Yunho did not seem to have the patience for the numbness of his mind. He would go along, too tired to resist. 

No sooner than his feet touched the ground did Yunho grip his arm and pull him along. Hongjoong stumbled and staggered, but Yunho did not let up, constantly looking around themselves as if checking for danger. What danger- 

Oh, yes. The council and villagers who likely wanted him dead. Where were they? Why had they not seized him yet? People were fighting. The guards… if the guards obeyed Hwang, who was fighting them? Why was it so silent, as if the night itself was holding its breath. 

Hongjoong wanted to demand that he slow down. It did not matter who discovered them. Hongjoong practically welcomed death. He had brought enough death with him. 

They ran around the edge of the palace, though, and Hongjoong truly could not tell where they were going. 

Until Yunho paused before a small gate, usually stationed with two guards, but that was vacant. 

Hongjoong’s stomach dropped. “The dungeons?” he croaked, jerking to a halt. “So, you would throw me in there as well, Yunho?”

Yunho glared at him, eyes hard. “Really, Your Highness, I am offended at that. Now, come, we cannot remain in the open.” 

Hongjoong followed blindly. Yunho pushed the gate open and they walked down a few steps, into cool, dark earth that stretched beneath the palace. It was moist and echoed and slippery with moss against the stone. 

Hongjoong hated coming down here. But it seemed only fitting that this be where he was forced to- 

They rounded a corner, exposing a row of cells, black bars reaching floor to ceiling. In the hall outside them, a man sat, bruises littering his skin. He must have been a villager, given his rags for clothing. He was leaning up against the wall, as if speaking quietly with someone, but facing him was only bars of a cell. 

Yunho stopped, and Hongjoong did as well, glancing at him in confusion. “Go on,” Yunho urged. “He wanted to see you.” 

The villager? Hongjoong only moved after Yunho gave him a prompting push, and he took several steps down the little hallway, swallowing thickly. At the sound of his footsteps, the man in the hall looked over, gasping and scrambling to his feet. 

“Your Majesty,” he breathed, bowing low and respectful. 

Hongjoong frowned. Was he not going to grab the nearest weapon and do as Hongjoong deserved? 

There was rustling of the straw on the ground of the cell across from the village leader, and then hands appeared, wrapped around the cell bars, a face appearing, trying to see down the hall from the poor angle- 

Hongjoong stopped breathing. 

Seonghwa pressed his cheek to the bars, trying to see. 

Seonghwa. 

_ Seonghwa.  _

Hongjoong never told his tired, battered body to move, but suddenly he was at the bars, everything rushing to the surface at once, spilling over in choked breaths, hot tears, and desperate hands that grabbed whatever they could find. Touching, feeling, basking,  _ he was here _ , Seonghwa was here,  _ alive _ , within his hands- 

Seonghwa responded in kind, fingers wrapped around Hongjoong’s wrists, caressing his face, carding through his hair, grasping his shoulder- 

“You are alive,” Seonghwa cried, hands shaking where they cupped his cheek. He repeated it over and over, the words mingling with tears that wet Hongjoong’s hands. 

“I am sorry, I’m so sorry,” Hongjoong cried, voice trembling beyond recognition, leaning into Seonghwa’s touch, his heart choking him viciously. There was a bruise, dark and stark, on Seonghwa’s cheek from where the guards struck him, and Hongjoong traced a trembling finger over it. 

_ He thought he was dead-  _

Seonghwa kissed him, hard and desperate and shaking and frightened- 

Relieved and joyous and light and grateful- 

Hongjoong cried harder, clinging to Seonghwa, not allowing him even a moment to pull away and catch his breath. 

_ He thought he had killed him-  _

There was nothing sensual or heated about the kiss. Only desperate relief that they were able to touch one more time, at least. And neither wanted to pull away, lest something separate them and they be forced apart once more. 

_ Alive-  _

Only when Hongjoong became dizzy did their lips part, but they remained as close together as the bars would allow. Hongjoong’s hands wrapped loosely at his neck, Seonghwa’s hands gentle against his face, both of them breathing and relieved- 

God, the relief was enough to knock Hongjoong’s breath from him. He never wanted to stop looking at Seonghwa’s face, never wanted to return to that world where Seonghwa was gone- 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against his lips, tears choking him continuously. “I am such a fool, a horrendous, damned fool- I should not have- I should have told you, I should have confided in you-” 

Seonghwa hushed him, brushing the tears away quickly, but Hongjoong was inconsolable. 

“I should have been content,” he whispered softly. “I should have been happy just to have you, but I wanted more, and now I’ve doomed us both-” He swallowed. “And Yeosang and Wooyoung.” 

“No,” Seonghwa whispered gently, eyes searching Hongjoong’s. “No, you are not. You did it for us, you did it with every best intention- You tried to create a better world for us- for Yeosang and Wooyoung. You are the kindest soul in this world, Hongjoong,” he assured him in a hushed murmur. “You will never apologize for trying to help us.” 

He rested their foreheads together, the cold bars pressing against his cheeks, but with Seonghwa before him, he did not care. 

_ Alive-  _

Hongjoong kissed him again, slower, more of a chance just to touch again than a desire for intimacy. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling against the bars, and Seonghwa hushed him gently, petting his cheek like a parent’s hand soothing away a nightmare. 

“I am here,” Seonghwa whispered against his skin. “I am here with you,” he promised. 

Hongjoong shut his eyes tightly, afraid that keeping them open might reveal everything to be a dream, but he nodded, leaning against Seonghwa once more- as he always did, as he always would need to. 

Seonghwa leaned back, as reliable and solid as a tree that Hongjoong rested beneath. 

“This is why…” 

Hongjoong stiffened, his grip on Seonghwa tightening (Seonghwa’s tightened on him in tandem), both of them shifting their thoughts away from each other to the man behind them. 

The village leader did not stare in disgusted shock or disbelief. Rather, he watched them with a gentle countenance, as if watching a tender scene of two lovers beneath a cherry blossom tree. There was understanding in his eyes. 

“This is why you changed the law.” He lifted a hand withered and darkened by sun and work. “For him.” 

Hongjoong’s chest twisted, but he nodded slowly. “And for others,” he managed. 

The village leader inclined his head, still watching them curiously. “You love him?” 

Hongjoong wanted to laugh. 

Love. 

It was not a word they threw around casually or often. It was held deep within their hearts, growing from the tiny seed that love planted and growing into something beyond it. What they felt was no longer bound within a simple four letter word. Love was too basic, too limiting. 

They had outgrown love long ago. 

But Hongjoong nodded. “I do.” 

The villager turned to Seonghwa in turn. “And you love the king?”

His fingers gripped Hongjoong’s arm tightly, as if his emotions were being tested. “With everything I have.” 

His eyes returned to Hongjoong. “The ‘others’ you mentioned,” the villager questioned, “is one of them a boy from the stables?” 

Hongjoong shifted to face the man further. “Wooyoung? You saw him?”

“He was trying to get into the hall,” he said. “They forced him away, but he kept trying to enter. I knew the look on his face. I had seen it once on my father’s face as he tried to enter into a burning tavern for my mother.” 

Hongjoong swallowed, and Seonghwa rubbed a gently circle into his arm. “Was he harmed?” 

“The guards pushed him around some,” he said. “But he was forced away with nothing worse than some bruises.” 

“What you doing here?” Hongjoong suddenly blurted, glancing around the cell. Yunho stood guard at the entrance. “Why are you alive?” he asked, glancing to Seonghwa. “Where is everyone?” He eyed the villager distrustfully. “Why are you not attempting to harm us?”

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said quietly. “The villagers are the reason we are both still alive.” His head whipped to Seonghwa, eyes wide. His expression was gentle. “They fought the council, after Mingi took you away.” 

Hongjoong turned back the head villager. “Why?” he breathed. 

The villager bowed slightly, lowering his head. “Admittedly, none could scarcely believe what you said, Your Highness. Tradition and years of following laws… overturned in an instant? We were in shock. We did not know what to think- we the lower class that you had just torn the wall down between.” He paused, and when he spoke, his voice was slightly thicker. “But… you are a good and righteous king. You are kind to your people, and you heed our pleas. Even as a new king, barely old enough to understand, you pitied us and protected us from the council who demanded more than we could give.” 

He coughed, lifting his eyes that were misty. “And moments before, you had given us food from your own stores when we were afraid to lose what little we have. You’ve ensured our lives against each pressure from your council.” He swallowed. “How could we abandon a king who had not abandoned us? If you withstood your council, we would as well. The people’s duty is to protect their king. We would gladly lay our lives down, for one as kind as you, Your Grace.” 

He lowered his head again. 

Hongjoong felt stunned and… humbled. 

These people… fighting for him, without question, without a single order… 

“They fought the guards in the Royal Hall as well,” Seonghwa murmured behind him. “Thirty villagers against fifty guards. It did not last long, though. Hwang was ordering the guards after you and Mingi. Some obeyed, frightened of the consequences… but there were many who were loyal, and they aided the villagers’ fight.  A line, too, had been drawn among servants- those who support your decisions and those who do not. But many remained loyal.” 

“Then why are you here?” Hongjoong demanded, turning to him. “Why are you not free? Why did I spent hours believing I had lost you?” 

Seonghwa winced, lifting a hand to cup his cheek tenderly. “They dragged me away. The guards were still confused as to what was happening. They did not kill me. But they locked me here and left to see what was to be done. I have no knowledge other than that. But then, Minsoo and a few of his people were lead here by Yunho. Yunho assured me Mingi had said you were safe, but I had to see myself. We did not want to pull you from the one place we knew was safe, but I could not be another moment without seeing you.” He scanned Hongjoong’s face, torn between relief and pain. “Minsoo was trying to explain what had happened when Yunho fetched you.” 

“Our side was outmatched,” Minsoo said, earning Hongjoong’s gaze upon him. “ We had to retreat. But the council and their guards retreated as well, to lick their wounds like the dogs they are. The cowards.” His voice colored darker, angrier. “We tried to regroup. We have been attempting to think of what to do. But we did not know what had happened to the king. Both groups are in their respective parts of the castle, waiting for the other to move. We have tried to find a guard with access to free the head scholar, but none had a way into the cell. We tried.” 

“They have sent someone for reinforcements,” Seonghwa whispered. “More villagers that should be here by morning.” 

They spoke assuredly. Knowledgably. Confidently. Already a plan formed and ready. 

Hongjoong felt… 

Useless. Like a dusty map with information that was no longer useful, but that would not be thrown away out of novelty. 

Dirty. For creating such a mess that so many people suffered to fix. 

What would be do? Allow bloodshed to fall? It was clear the councilors were… finally tired of his actions. They were traitors, all of them. Them, the guards who aided them, all of these men- betrayers of the crown and the kingdom. By law, they all should die. 

His entire council, more than half his entire palace subjects… turned against him in an instant, for suggesting that it was not a crime against nature that he love another of a lower class. 

He felt so lost. 

He turned to Seonghwa, leaning against the bars once more, touching wherever he could as his eyes fell closed. “I cannot ask them to fight,” he whispered. 

“You are not, Sire,” Minsoo pressed firmly. “We do it out of loyalty. Out of respect.” 

“The disloyal guards currently outnumber them,” Seonghwa murmured, brushing a hand through Hongjoong’s hair. “If we hope to win, we must have more men.” 

Hongjoong chuckled, bitter and dark. “What sort of king am I?” He shook his head, brushing against Seonghwa’s. “I simply allowed an entire council of monsters to remain in my court, despite their clear actions against me. I turned blind eyes, scared of us being discovered, despite the danger they posed to my kingdom. To you. And now… I must sit by as people fight for my mistakes.” 

Seonghwa opened his mouth, but it was Minsoo who spoke firmly. “It is not your fault, Your Highness, that you were surrounded by snakes and dogs. It is not a crime to be the only good among a field of rancid weeds. And we, as those who have benefited from your sacrifices, will gladly ensure that you are allowed to remain as such.” 

It was different. This was not Seonghwa’s gentle reassurances- genuine and real, but different. 

This was his subject. A man Hongjoong had never seen before this night. Who stood and assured Hongjoong that his mistakes were not detrimental. That there were people- people other than Seonghwa- who would stand beside him through it all.  Not his council, but his people. The people he had begged Seonghwa to abandon with him. 

“If we are lucky,” Minsoo said, “our people will arrive before daybreak, and we can take them by surprise. The guards loyal to you are already aiding us to prepare.” 

Hongjoong wished it could just end, that they could just go back, just be  _ happy _ \- 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa murmured, placing a gentle finger beneath his chin and lifting his head to meet his eyes. “Have hope,” he whispered. “For just a little longer. We need hope for just a little longer, hold on just a little longer. It will be over soon.” 

One way or another. It would be over. Either, the villagers and guards succeeded and Hongjoong could… rebuild. Start his reign again, with new people, a better council. 

Or the councilors and their guards defeated them, and Hongjoong and Seonghwa would likely not live much longer after that. How had wanting to be with Seonghwa turned into an all out coups?

Hongjoong nodded slowly, and Seonghwa smiled weakly. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For trying to make a world for us.” 

He lifted a hand, grasping Seonghwa’s and bringing it to his mouth, kissing it and resting his heavy head against it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, because he was. 

Seonghwa said nothing, simply kissed the top of his head, fingers curling around his, both of them just resting weary bodies against each other. 

Minsoo was silent, allowing them their moment of faux-peace. 

Hongjoong ignored everything. Minsoo behind them, Yunho down the hall, the fight that was lying in wait while Hongjoong clung to his last piece of hope and belief of  _ something _ good to be left in this world. 

“We can only wait,” Seonghwa murmured. “But I will be with you the entire time, I swear.” He kissed Hongjoong’s lips quickly, warm and slow, pulling away with eyes a little more firm than before. “I will not leave your side.” 

Hongjoong swallowed. “If you think I will ever allow outside of my sight again, then your mind has been rattled.” There was no amount of joking in his voice.

Their lives were changed. From now on, they were different. Coups and councilors and villagers mingled in a pot that Hongjoong had started a fire beneath. From now on, they were different. There was no going back to how it was before. But Hongjoong knew one thing had not- would not-  _ could not _ change. He would never abandon Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa would never abandon him. 

This was a steadfast, unbeatable rule that even the universe itself could not break. 

Though it tried its hardest to split the two of them. 

The two beauties left in a world of snakes and darkness clung to each other, resilient and firm. 

Pained and broken and scarred…. but resilient against all odds. 


	5. The Weight of the Crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back~~  
> I am so sorry. I wanted to break this into pieces, but I couldn’t find a place that did make it sound choppy. So, you get a 14k monster of a chapter. At least you don’t have to worry about cliffhangers! (Sort of). [Spoiler Alert] Minor character death in this chapter and some graphic descriptions of blood.  
> Hope you enjoy, and I hope nothing came out too rushed!  
> Thank you for all your comments, they really keep my going!  
> -SS

 

Yunho continued to stand guard near the doorway, trying to avert his eyes from the scenes occuring before him, but it was incredibly hard in the small space that was allowed them. 

Minsoo sat against the wall, head lowered, perhaps trying to catch a few moments of rest before everything went to hell (or perhaps he was simply trying to allow a small amount of privacy to the two before them as well). 

Seonghwa and the king (Yunho was still a little jarred at hearing the scholar speak the king’s name) sat on the ground, in the most pitiful sight Yunho had ever seen, both of them battered and bruised, separated by ugly, onyx bars, but leaning on each other as much as possible, their arms reaching through the bars and linking together, their heads resting together as they stared at their interlocked fingers. 

Seonghwa stroked the king’s hand with his other hand, the position certainly nothing comfortable, but neither seemed to care as Hongjoong’s other hand clung to Seonghwa’s sleeve, like a child following their mother around a market, scared of being separated. 

It was a sight truly heartbreaking, and Yunho was faced with how lacking his view of their relationship had been. Yunho had known Hongjoong as long as he had been king, had tended him after attempts on his life, and there had been a couple times when the scholar would arrive with books while he was still clearing up his things. He had to commemorate their acting because he never truly suspected anything- simply made a note that the king seemed to enjoy the scholar’s company, as he did Yunho’s. 

It wasn’t until he brought it up casually to San who was tidying up Yunho’s office that the servant revealed (after a little prompting) the true nature of the king’s sudden fatigue. 

However, even after knowing they were intimately involved, Yunho had still missed the mark completely on how dedicated the two were to each other. 

The king had changed a  _ law _ . A law that had been the basis of their entire society for  _ decades _ . 

For the head scholar. 

And perhaps Yunho would have called it selfish- trying to change an entire law just to allow himself some freedom- but the moment he heard the two of them scream the other’s name across the hall, he understood. 

Seeing the king enter the dungeon, running to Seonghwa- Yunho was hardly entirely proper with the king himself, teasing him and toeing the line of professional and respectful, but Seonghwa had no line, it seemed. He touched the king, whispering his name, refusing to let him go even as they spoke with Minsoo. In the two of them with no boundaries between each other, Yunho could understand why the law would prove such a desperate irritant. 

Even now, hours later, they still had not released each other, their fingers tangled and bodies as close as the cursed bars would allow. 

Yunho would be perfectly content to avert his eyes and allow the lovers their deserved privacy with each other, but it was useless because in the echoing chamber, he could hear each whisper that passed between them like a secret, and he was not supposed to be hearing these things. 

It had begun with gentle whispers of reassurances, of a few tears, of Seonghwa stroking the king’s cheek tenderly ( _ that  _ had caused Yunho to begin looking the other way). And then they had fallen silent for a spell. But Seonghwa broke it, speaking quietly but audible to every party present. 

“Why did you not tell me?” he murmured, not looking away from their joined hands. 

The king’s eyes fell closed, and he sighed heavily. Yunho was surprised by just  _ how much  _ guilt the king held at his actions, heavy eyes and shoulders weighing his entire body down. “I… I have no excuse,” he whispered, voice shot after so much. “I knew it was a suicide mission, I knew it could never work.” His grip tightened on Seonghwa’s. “And perhaps that is why I did not tell you. Perhaps I did not want you to convince me otherwise.” 

“Hongjoong,” the scholar’s eyes dragged up to the king’s, slightly horrified. (Yunho winced at the name.) “Why does it sound like you wanted to die?”

“I did not,” the king said quickly. “At least- I did not, but I wanted- I wanted it to end, Seonghwa,” he whispered. He seemed on the verge of crying again, but he seemed to have calmed some from his hysteria earlier. “I told you, I am  _ tired _ . In my mind, I could not bear to continue on as we were. I needed something to change- either for us to be together or for me to stop hoping for a better life. This was all I could think to do. We could not run, so I had to do  _ something _ .” 

Run? As in, abandon the kingdom? The king and the scholar had planned… to run away? 

“And I hate myself for not being able to feel content,” he whispered. “I hate that I thought I would ever need something more than just you. As if you were not enough…” 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa comforted, hands rubbing the king’s between his, as if he were cold. “It was not selfish. There is nothing selfish in wanting to be free to love. You have a right to that as much as any subject. I understand your frustrations- I felt them too. That anger that comes with wondering why we could not just exist together. It is not selfish, it is natural.” 

Yunho wanted to stop listening because this was too raw, too private, but there was no way to block their voices, and he was intrigued, in a horrid way, in their movements around each other. Because truly, when thinking about a king with a scholar, everything said it was wrong. But Yunho could not look at the two between him and see a difference in class- he only saw two men trying with their everything to stay together. 

“You should have told me,” Seonghwa said firmly. “I do not appreciate finding out such an upsetting fact from a king. I would rather have heard it from you. I should have been allowed to at least brace myself in knowing you would ignore my warnings.” 

The king simply nodded heavily, no longer trying to defend himself. 

“I would stand with you through any decision,” the scholar stressed, placing a gentle hand beneath the king’s chin and tilting it to meet his eyes. “ _ Any  _ decision- regardless of how I opposed it. I would urge you otherwise, but I would have been beside you for it, Hongjoong.” 

“I know that,” the king whispered quickly, eyes squeezing shut. “I know that, and I would never doubt you, Seonghwa-  _ never _ . But I-” 

Seonghwa hushed him, shaking his head. “I am not blaming you. You have not been in your right mind, Hongjoong. You have been suffering, and I am sorry I could not be there for you. I have watched you from afar, unable to aid you.” 

“It is not your job to sustain me, Seonghwa. I could not hold myself accountable. And because of that, we are here. You are in a  _ cell _ , Seonghwa.”  

The scholar smiled, weak and fluttering. “I made it my job. And it is not so bad. I have straw, see?” He withdrew a hand, picking up a handful of damp hay. “And I have you.” He smiled a little firmer, more assured. “You have me. However, do you have straw out there, Hongjoong?” 

Yunho watched in amazement as the king lifted his eyes, and he was sure the vapid words would be useless against his heavy chest, but the king held Seonghwa’s gaze for several moments before a weak chuckle left him, his eyes misty as he dropped his head, shaking it. “How?” he said, voice a little lighter, a little wet. “How are you still able to smile like that?” 

Seonghwa’s smile reinforced at the slight reaction. “I have you within my grasp. That is always a cause to smile.” 

The king took a shaking breath, slow tears falling, but he had a weak upturn to his lips, a valiant struggle against the onslaught around him. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he whispered, a hand coming and brushing hair from the scholar’s eyes. 

Seonghwa grasped his hand, kissing it firmly. “And yet somehow, it is a wilted flower compared to what you are to me.” 

Yunho’s own chest felt tight. The confusion and frustration he felt slowly fading as a warm coal settled in his chest- a coal of sorrow. How could someone ever attempt to separate the two before him? What poisonous world did they live in, that would try to tear this apart? What was station at birth compared to a conscious, real choice made between two people? 

Their anger and desperation made more sense now. It suddenly seemed so reasonable that the two do anything, everything to steal the other away. 

When their lips met, Yunho did look away. 

And Yunho’s willingness to fight for them only grew. He was prepared to follow the king, knowing him to be kind, to be fair, to be almost a friend. But seeing the two of them, Yunho swore he would do all in  his power to aid them. 

It was only fair that they finally have someone on their side. How sad it seemed, being two of the most powerful people in the nation, but being powerless to do anything for each other? 

Yunho kept his eyes averted, though the two continued to speak in quiet voices, things about the past, things about the future, but very pointedly avoiding the present. 

 

~~~~~

 

Yeosang sat against the wall, rubbing at the bruise around his arm where a guard had grabbed him, his master’s words echoing.  

_ Do not allow them to take you. Go, now!  _

Yeosang ran. Like a coward, he abandoned his master at the first word. Pushing through crowds of people. Of course, that drew attention from guards, who grabbed him. They dragged him away, Yeosang unable to even struggle as fear paralyzed him. It was villagers who tore the men off of him, freeing him and telling him to defend the palace. Would they have kill him? 

What of Wooyoung? Even now, he knew nothing of him. If the guards had caught him, did they knew of Wooyoung?

He swallowed thickly, rubbing at raw eyes that had never closed in sleep. 

He gazed around the kitchens, dozens of servants, guards, and villagers milling around, testing knives and paddles for a fight that was surely coming. Yeosang curled around his knees, feeling very small and distant from it all. 

He didn’t want to fight. He never could fight. He had become a scholar to solve issues without the hysterical battle for physical prowess. He rested his chin against his knees. A guard passed a villager a knife, and Yeosang’s stomach twisted as he watched it glint. People were going to die. 

Either on their side or the other, people would lose their lives. 

Yeosang tried to find a familiar face, someone he knew, but all he saw were strangers preparing for a battle Yeosang could not partake in. 

_ “You have to be kind, alright, Yeosang?” Gentle, work-calloused hands brushed his hair comfortingly. “Once you leave here… be kind. Do not hurt people as we have been hurt.”  _

“You.” He glanced up at the rough voice, finding a villager standing before him. “Where’s your weapon?” He held what looked like broken piece of a cooking paddle out to him. 

Yeosang simply stared at it. “I am not taking that.” 

The villager laughed, rough and harsh. “You think you can take any of these men with your bare hands? You look smaller than a child.” He pushed it more insistently at Yeosang. 

He pushed it away. “I am not fighting.” 

“You’d rather fight with a knife?”

“I am not fighting at all,” he pressed firmly, eyes dark. 

The villager blinked in surprise, and then his expression soured. “So what is your plan? To run away? To sit here, nice and safe while other risk their lives?” His grip tightened on the stick. “Have you love for your nation, boy?” he demanded. “Will you be one of the cowards who abandon it?” 

“I will not fight,” Yeosang said, not cowering under his anger. “I do not solve problems with violence and anger.” 

He laughed, mocking. “You think you can go to the enemies and sweet talk them into surrendering?” 

“No, I do not. That is why I am not fighting.” 

The villager grit his teeth, reaching down and grabbing Yeosang’s arm, forcing the stick into his grip. “You’ll fight like the rest of us,” he hissed. 

Yeosang tore his arm away, throwing the stick away as if it had burned. 

_ “Do not be the people you hated. Just be kind, for me. Your life cannot fail if you are just kind.”  _

The villager jerkred to watch it clatter against the floor, turning back and grabbing Yeosang’s robes, hauling him up with gritted teeth. “ _ You- _ ” 

“Hey!” 

Hands tore the man’s hand off him, shoving him away. Jongho glared at the man, lifting his own weapon (it looked like a table leg). “Do not start fights among your own side,” Jongho snapped. “There’ll be enough of that in a few hours. Save your breath.” 

“That coward would sit by and do nothing!” the villager shouted. “While we risk our lives!” 

“That is not your concern,” Jongho said darkly. “Now, go ensure that others who will fight are armed and ready.”

The villager looked ready to dispute yet again, but seemed to think again, turning away with a growl and disappearing into the crowd. 

_ “When you begin your new life… find ways to win without hurting someone, Yeosangie. I may not be able to go with you, but understand that you will always have a proud mother, regardless of your path in life.”  _

Jongho turned, frowning. “You’re truly not going to fight?” 

Yeosang stiffened defensively. He knew Jongho had helped them, that he supported his master and the king, but he still was wary of him. “No.” 

“Why?” he asked, a little demanding, but softer. “Do you not wish to protect the king and your master?” 

Yeosang swallowed. “I would not fight like this even for myself. This is not how I fight.” 

“You cannot win against the enemy with words,” Jongho pressed. 

“Which is why I am not fighting,” Yeosang repeated firmly. “You can mock all you like, it will not change anything.” 

“I am not mocking you, but you clearly care for you master. Why will you not fight for him?” 

_ “We have been hurt too much, Yeosang. But do not let it turn you bitter towards the crown. Instead, let it turn you different. Do not become like them. Be your own kind of soldier against the pain in this world.”  _

Yeosang shook his head. “I will not harm another.” 

“Even those that would kill you?” Jongho demanded. 

“Especially those.” 

“You-” 

“ _ Yeosang _ !” 

He turned quickly, startled by the violent cry, but as soon as he turned, something crashed into his chest, nearly knocking him backwards, arms around his neck and a face buried in his shoulder. 

But Yeosang would recognize the body against him even in the dark.. 

He wrapped his arms around Wooyoung tightly, soaking in the warmth and barely believing he was truly holding him. Wooyoung pulled away quickly, and Yeosang only got a glimpse of bruised eyes and a bloodied lip before Wooyoung crashed their lips together. 

Yeosang taste the slightest bit of blood, and it made his heart twist, but it did nothing to make him force them apart, kissing him back quickly. Thank the gods, he was alright. Wooyoung pulled away much quicker than he usually would, grasping Yeosang’s face gently with wide eyes. “I have been looking for you everywhere,” he breathed. “I was- the stables, and suddenly- everyone was speaking of riots in the Royal Hall, and the guards- I didn’t know where you were-” 

He blew out a quick breath, kissing Yeosang again, until neither could breath around the bubbles in their chests. 

“I did not know what had happened to you,” Yeosang breathed quickly. He touched the cut on his lip gingerly. 

Wooyoung winced slightly. “I tried to get into the Hall to find you. The guards did not like a stable boy trying to enter.” 

Yeosang wanted to cry with relief. 

“Excuse me.” 

Both turned and saw Jongho staring. 

“Could either of you explain-” he gestured between them calmly- “This?” 

Yeosang’s stomach dropped even as Wooyoung pulled him flush against him. “I think you are smart enough to decipher it,” Wooyoung said firmly. 

“Well, I can put a label on it, assuredly,” Jongho said. “I was simply asking why you never  _ told us _ !” He glared at Wooyoung. “We were assisting the king and head scholar, and the whole time, you were with his apprentice?” 

“No,” Wooyoung said primly. “Yeosang and I have been with each other long before that.” 

“ _ How long _ ?” he demanded. 

“A little more than a full year, if I remember, correct?” He looked at Yeosang, completely calmly, and the apprentice wasn’t sure how he was not about to die from nerves. 

Yeosang glanced at Jongho, then nodded. “Yes.” 

Jongho stared for several moments longer before sighing, rubbing at his eyes. “Is on the eve of battle really the time to reveal this?” 

“Well, I think there is no better time, Jongho,” Wooyoung said with a grin. “Who knows what may happen tonight?” 

Yeosang struck his chest sharply. “Do not joke of things like that.” 

Wooyoung’s amusement died a little at Yeosang’s expression. “It is true,” he said seriously. “Regardless of what happens tonight, this-” he gestured between them- “is the least of our worries.” 

Yeosang swallowed thickly. “Do you know where the councilors have hidden away?” 

“Some of the servants are looking around,” Jongho volunteered. “They believe that most of them are holed up in the entrance hall of the castle.” 

“Only two entrances,” Yeosang said, frowning. “And one of them is the reinforced door to outside. We would never be able to infiltrate that way. That leaves only one entrance. They would know exactly where we were coming from.” 

“But that my be to our advantage,” Wooyoung said suddenly, eyes widening. “The hall is not wide, only about five men. They will have nowhere to get around us, forced into a straight line.” 

And Yeosang realized that perhaps Wooyoung was not quite to distracted during those war history lessons.

“But we will be so as well,” Jongho reminded him, hands flapping. 

_ “You have a beautiful mind, Yeosang. Do not waste it with bruteness.”  _

“But it will give us equal footing,” Yeosang said, eyes flickering as if reading a scroll before him, mind racing. “But we will have the entire palace behind us. They have only one place to go if we-” His eyes widened, snapping up to stare at Wooyoung and Jongho. “We can-” He broke off, staring at Jongho firmly. “ _ This  _ is how I can fight,” he said boldly. “I need to speak with whomever has been placed in charge.” 

 

~~~~~~

 

The sound of footsteps against wet stone was enough to make each person stiffen, turning quickly, Seonghwa taking a tight grasp around Hongjoong’s wrist, as if he could actually do something from within this little cage. 

But then there was four quick taps, and Yunho’s shoulders relaxed. “It’s San,” he breathed, but Seonghwa didn’t relax until the familiar face appeared- rumple but unharmed. 

San leaned against the wall, breathing quickly. “The extra villagers,” he planted. “They are here. They’re waiting outside the palace. They cannot get in- the entrance hall is where the councilors are hiding out. They’ve barricaded the door.” 

Minsoo stood, fists tight. “Do they know the other villagers are there?” 

San shook his head. “No, not that we can see. We have them hiding in the archway outside.” 

“How do we get them in?” Hongjoong questioned, and Seonghwa could hear the strain as he tried to sound confident and controlling. 

San swallowed nervously, glancing at Seonghwa. “Yeosang had a plan.” 

Seonghwa’s stomach twisted. “He is alright?” 

San nodded quickly. “He and Wooyoung are….” He coughed. “Uh, they’re together right now.” 

Seonghwa breathed a sigh of relief. “What was Yeosang’s plan?” 

“Coming at them at both ends,” San said. “The councilors would never open to door to the outside. We can’t get our forces inside. But if we come at them hard enough from the inside, they would be desperate enough to open the palace doors to escape. We would be waiting on the other side.” 

Seonghwa rolled his lips tightly. “And we have the manpower to succeed in that?” 

San winced. “Well.. not really. We still are outnumbered until we can get them to open the door. There’s also not as many people as we had hoped. But we think we have enough to stand a chance if we can get them desperate enough. They’ll disorient themselves.” 

“That sounds like a hugely large risk,” Hongjoong said, sitting up further, brow furrowed. “How many people would die if we did this?” he demanded. 

San shrugged helplessly. 

Minsoo said something about it being worth the risk, but Seonghwa was occupied by Hongjoong turning to him with stricken eyes. “How many would die?” he demanded. 

Seonghwa sighed, taking Hongjoong’s hand tightly and pulling him towards him. “People are going to die, Hongjoong,” he said firmly, eyes hard. “But we are forcing no one to fight. If they lose their lives, it is for a cause they decided to take part in. We will do all we can to protect those who will aid us, but we cannot allow everything to continue simply because some may die.” 

“I will not send them to their deaths!” Hongjoong snapped. “I have made too many mistakes, I will not-” 

“Do you truly think the council would let them live?” Seonghwa hissed, not angry but firm. Hongjoong would take anything he could right now and twist it into the most horrid thing he could imagine. Seonghwa had to keep him grounded in reality. “They would kill them for simply standing against them. All of them- dead without hesitation. At least fighting, they would likely stand a chance. We  _ have to  _ allow them a chance, Hongjoong.” 

Hongjoong didn’t liked. But he didn’t have to. He simply had to accept it. 

Seonghwa squeezed his hand once more before turning to San. “Where do we fit in?” he questioned. 

San jerked his eyes away from watching Hongjoong, wincing. “Well… there is little you could do yourself.” He gestured helplessly to the bars. “And there is no way the king would be able to fight-” 

“I can-” 

Seonghwa jerked Hongjoong’s hand, making him look at him, his gaze warning. “You will not,” he hissed. “Did you not just promise me you would not allow me out of your sight?” 

Hongjoong deflated slightly, sighing harshly. San held his breath for a moment before continuing. “But they want every man we have available. So, Yunho and Minsoo will need to return with me.” 

Seonghwa’s brain suddenly clicked into place, his eyes widening. “What of Yeosang?” he demanded. “Is he fighting?” 

San shook his head, looking unsure. “He… He is refusing to fight. Some of the villagers are angry about it, but Wooyoung and Jongho are keeping him out of trouble.” 

“Send him here,” Seonghwa said quickly. “Please. Send him to us, so we can ensure he is not caught up in everything.” He was relieved that Wooyoung and he had found each other. And even further relieved to know that Yeosang was not being forced to fight. 

San hesitated. “It may be hard to get around… but I will make sure an attempt is made.” 

Seonghwa nodded gratefully, squeezing Hongjoong’s hand without even looking at his confused expression. “But we have to go,” San said, gesturing for Minsoo to come. “They do not want to wait.” 

Minsoo nodded, coming to stand beside Yunho and San. “We will defend our king,” he said firmly, earning a grateful smile from Hongjoong, weak as it may be. 

The trio turned, but Seonghwa suddenly stood. “San, Yunho,” he called, and they turned curiously. Seonghwa’s fists clenched. “If at all possible… Councilor Hwang… do not kill him. Bring him to me.” 

They both frowned, glancing at each other, but Yunho nodded. “We will try,”  he assured him. 

Too soon, they were gone, and Seonghwa realized that there was a large possibility that they may die. He shoved the thoughts away, settling back onto the ground, silence around them as Hongjoong watched him with eyes that were struggling not to fall back into darkness. 

“Why will Yeosang not fight?” he asked gently, twisting his own fingers together tightly, as if trying to distract himself. 

Seonghwa reached through the bars, holding the edge of Hongjoong’s robe securely. “He never told me all the details. But I understand that the village he used to live in… while under your father, it was terrorized by guards and castle officials. They took food and money from them until they were left with nothing. The village became a crime-ridden murderous cesspool. I do not know what prompted it exactly, but I understand that Yeosang’s mother sent him away. I believe it was shortly after his father’s death. He traveled to the castle, asked for an apprenticeship, and no one wanted to give him one. He worked as a servant for a while, I believe, until some time after you became king.” 

Hongjoong did remember Seonghwa coming to him, requesting permission to take a servant in as his apprentice. Of course, Hongjoong could never dream of questioning Seonghwa’s decisions, and gave the permission immediately. He never bothered keeping very stern tabs on Yeosang- only knowing the compliments that Seonghwa paid him occasionally for being hardworking and gentle. 

“You knew he would not fight?” Hongjoong questioned. 

Seonghwa hummed in affirmation. 

_ “Hey!”  _

_ The two young servants jerked up at the yell, scrambling away from the boy they had pinned to the ground. Seonghwa rushed over, debating whether to chase after them or not, but the boy sat up, wiping at the blood leaking from his nose.  _

_ “Thank you,” he said, voice thick form the blood, but gentle- like a cherry blossom floating along a stream.  _

_ “Are you alright?” Seonghwa asked, wishing he had something to stem the blood with, but the servant boy simply pressed the sleeve of his robe to it. Seonghwa could see other dried spots of blood that looked old.  _

_ “Fine,” he answered around his sleeve. “They do this all the time, I’m used to it at this point.”  _

_ Seonghwa frowned. “Have you ever considered carrying a large stick?” he asked, trying to comfort him. He looked to skinny and small.   _

_ The boy gave him a sharp look, though. “I would not stoop to his level of violence.”  _

_ Seonghwa blinked, taken aback by the harsh words, and nodded. “Well, I can commend your choice. But at the expense of your well being-“ _

_ “I will not stoop to his level,” he said firmly, as if Seonghwa were attacking his choice. “I’d be no better than him.” _

_ Seonghwa waited, watching steely eyes and bruised skin  staring back at him. “You do not speak like a servant here…” he noted.  _

_ “I am from a border village,” he said, peeking to check how much the bleeding continued. “I came here in search of an apprenticeship. But I became a servant instead.”  He stared at the blood on his sleeve with eyes a million miles away. “I thought I would escape violence and bigotry but I suppose ignorance knows no bounds.” _

_ Seonghwa’s eyes trailed his skinny limbs and rumpled clothing. Then up to his gentle eyes that flickered with a untapped-intelligence that Seonghwa was intrigued by. “Have you any education?” _

_ “My family worked in mercantile. I can take measurements, but not much else.”  _

_ He hummed. “Would you like to learn more?” _

_ His eyes widened, blinking owlishly. “As in…” _

_ “I could use an apprentice,” Seonghwa said. “Someone to pass on knowledge to. And I think that you would value that. Perhaps, you even  _ need  _ it, more than anyone else in this palace, certainly.” The boy stared. Seongha grinned. “Is that a ‘yes’?”  _

_ “Yes!” he burst quickly, scrambling to his feet, eyes hardly daring to believe. “I- I’ll work hard!”  _

_ Seonghwa could only chucking, hoping that he could give this boy something more useful to defend himself with than silence.  _

“It is not in his nature,” Seonghwa murmured quietly. “Or at the very least, he refuses to allow it to become part of it.” 

“Will he be any safer here?” Hongjoong questioned, pessimistic. “We are unarmed, as well. And it seems that none of us are able to fight,” he noted bitterly. 

“None should come down here,” Seonghwa assured him, squeezing his arm. “We will ride out the storm.” 

“Like cowards…” Hongjoong muttered, glaring at their hands. Seonghwa sighed, taking his chin and forcing him to look up. He was finished with gentle reassurances that were not getting through the darkness around Hongjoong. 

“What good are you to the mess you made if you die?” Seonghwa demanded sharply, Hongjoong’s eyes wide. “If you truly wish not to be a coward, you will stand strong and you will fix your mistakes! You cannot start a war and then give up in the middle! Your battle is not out there- not among the blood and death- it is  _ after  _ this is over. Your fight has not yet begun, Hongjoong. You cannot start this mess and then leave the people kingless when your true moment comes. You will stay here, you will stay safe, and then you will  _ prove  _ to them after it is  over that you will not abandon them!”

Hongjoong stared, shocked and wide eyed, mouth open slightly. 

Seonghwa swallowed, voice mellowing out as he sighed gently. “We could not abandon them,” he said. “If we would not abandon the people to run away together, we cannot abandon them as we stay.” 

Hongjoong swallowed, lips trembling, and Seonghwa wanted to embrace him, but these infernal bars only allowed him to rest their heads together, Hongjoong trembling, but nodding against him. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It is not worth apologizing for,” Seonghwa comforted. “It is not a crime to want to fight, to want to stand beside the people, to own your mistake- but you must realize that this is not where you are needed. They will need someone after the dust settles, and it  _ must  _ be you, Hongjoong.”  

He swallowed thickly, nodding silently. Seonghwa believed that he may have broken through. Hongjoong did not need to like it. He only needed to accept it. 

Footsteps echoed in the stairwell, and both of them stiffened, Hongjoong pulling away to face them more full, as if he as an unarmed man could protect them against someone. But then there were four short taps, and then Yeosang appeared, a little pale, a little shaken, but alive and well. 

And then Wooyoung stepped behind him, urging him further into the underground chamber. 

“Yeosang.” Seonghwa’s head spun with relief when he stood as his apprentice noticed him, eyes widening as he rushed over, almost kicking Hongjoong as he grabbed the bars, scanning them as if looking for a crack or weakness to exploit. 

“What-” He shook the bars, making dust fall from the ceiling, but they did not budge. He glanced down at Hongjoong who rose as well. 

“There is no way to open them,” He said heavily. “We must simply wait for someone to find keys.” He knocked the bars with his knuckles. “I never thought I would regret having a strong prison.” His eyes trailed behind Yeosang to Wooyoung who stood back silently, but his body tensed as if expecting an attack. “Have you only come to deliver him?” 

Wooyoung shook his head sharply, but Yeosang spoke. “He refused to leave my side.” 

“The last time I did, I lost you in a riot!” he said sharply, and Hongjoong winced slightly. Seonghwa took his hand gently. “If you will not fight, someone will need to look after you.” 

“He would be safe here,” Seonghwa said encouragingly. “No one will be coming here, with a battle going on.” 

Wooyoung pressed his lips together, eyes trailing from Seonghwa to Yeosang who stared at him softly. He stepped towards Yeosang, one hand coming to hold the edge of his sleeve loosely. “With all due respect, Head Sholar… I would rather have proof myself. I’m sure you could understand…” 

Seonghwa wanted to laugh at the response, his fingers threaded through Hongjoong’s, and he nodded. “You would not rather go out and fight?” 

“Perhaps, I would rather be useful out there,” Wooyoung admitted. “But I don’t think I would be useful if I cannot focus much. I would worry too much for him.” 

Yeosang’s eyes were misty, but bright (underneath the fear) as he wrapped an arm around Wooyoung’s waist, pulling him into a brief embrace. 

“What now?” Yeosang questioned, turning to them. 

What a sight they must look. A king and a scholar with their hands interlocked. An apprentice and a stable boy with their arms still around each other. And Seonghwa was prepared to inform them that all they could do was sit and wait, but Hongjoong beat him to it. 

“We stay here. They will inform us when the battle is won… or people will likely find us if they lose.” Seonghwa glanced at him, and despite the heavy words, there was a flicker in his eyes- a spark. Seonghwa glanced at Yeosang and Wooyoung, their sides pressed together as they listened. He glanced back to Hongjoong who stared at the pair as if he had personally been charged with their protection. 

“We just sit?” Wooyoung asked, frowning. His hands twitched nervously on Yeosang’s waist. 

“Yes,” Hongjoong replied quickly. “But…” He pressed his lips together. “Listen to me,” he said firmly. “We will likely have some sort of indication of how the battle is going… if our side begins to be pushed back… if we are in danger of losing… the two of you will run.” 

“What of you two?” Wooyoung demanded weakly. 

“We would remain here.” 

“No!” Yeosang snapped quickly, shocking both Seonghwa and Wooyoung who looked at him. “Do you expect me to abandon my master and my king?” 

Seonghwa expected Hongjoong to lose his temper, to fall back into hysteria, but he simply answered calmly. “You will run, and you will try and survive,” he said firmly. “Seonghwa cannot leave,” he stated simply, one hand coming to rest on the bars. “And I will not leave him.” 

Seonghwa’s chest hollowed as he glared at Hongjoong, but Hongjoong wasn’t looking at him. “If you think I would allow you to stay here-” 

“How would you plan to stop me?” Hongjoong posed, turning to him with sharp eyes. Seonghwa glared at him, jaw tight, teeth aching as he silently demanded that Hongjoong take it back. But Hongjoong simply turned back to Yeosang and Wooyoung. “It is because of me that this is happening. If I tell you to, the two of you  _ must  _ run.” 

“I would not abandon my master any sooner than you would!” Yeosang broke in, stepping forward. Wooyoung caught his arm. “Nor would I leave you here to die, Your Highness.” 

And Seonghwa, as warm and tight as his chest was at Yeosang’s loyalty, could never allow him to stay if he had the chance to run. “Yeosang,” he said quietly, earning sharp eyes on him. 

“I will not leave you!” he reiterated loudly, and Wooyoung tugged his arm, hushing him to remind him of their hiding. It calmed his voice, but not his soul. “You have given me  _ everything-  _ I will not leave you to die!” 

“What purpose is there in so many deaths?” Seonghwa said sharply. Yeosang winced. “You claim your mind if your weapon, so use it! _ Think  _ for a moment, Yeosang- what purpose would your death serve? Do you think Wooyoung would run without you? Would you stay and force him into the same, useless fate?” 

Yeosang turned, eyes meeting Wooyoung’s that were watching him with fear and concern. “He is right,” Wooyoung said, his voice steady. “I would not leave you.” 

“But-” Yeosang looked between them, and Seonghwa’s heart broke as he saw the boy being torn in two between loyalty and love. Seonghwa was lucky- his had always resided in the same person. But Yeosang looked between his master, his king, and his love, and tears streaked his cheeks. 

“Come here,” Seonghwa whispered, beckoning Yeosang forward. He shook his head sharply, eyes closing against his tears, but Wooyoung pushed him forward gently. He took stumbling steps towards Seonghwa. Hongjoong took a few steps away, expression heavy. 

Seonghwa had never been physical with Yeosang- aside from a rap against his head in the beginning, when he would get distracted from his work. A hand on his shoulder, or a quick pat on the head were the only affections he ever afforded him. But Seonghwa was so infinitely fond of the boy he had taken in and watched flourish. He could not- would not- allow such a beautiful mind to be wasted. He would not allow such a pure person to die. 

He took Yeosang’s hand, pulling him up to the bars, and cupped his damp cheeks, lifting his head until wet eyes stared up at him, scared and broken. Seonghwa brushed some of the tears away with his thumbs. “Listen to me,” he said quietly, just for the two of them. “You made a choice, Yeosang. You chose to be with another. You picked who you would stand with… and now, you must face the bitter side of love: being with them through everything… even if it means leaving something else behind.” 

“I do not want you to die,” Yeosang whispered, breaths choking. “I do not want anyone to die-” 

“I know,” he assured him, wiping away the new tears.  _ God _ , his heart ached so terribly.  “But our own desires influence the world very little. There were many things I did not want… many things I wanted to hold onto… but I had to let them go, I had to give them up… because my love is worth more than any amount of pain I go through.” He smiled gently. “There is no guarantee that anyone will die. Perhaps we will win, and all of us will be able to hold onto each other. But in the chance that we cannot… I need you to be strong enough to let go, Yeosang.” 

His tears were still falling as he closed his eyes, leaning against Seonghwa’s hands heavily. “I cannot,” he whispered. “I cannot leave you-” 

“Do not think of it as leaving me,” Seonghwa whispered, brushing sweat-damp hair from his forehead. “Think of it as saving another life, instead of giving up one. Will you save Wooyoung?”

“Why should I have to choose?” Yeosang demanded, but there was no fire in his eyes, only exhaustion at the unfairness of it all.

“The hardest lesson any person- scholar or not- has to learn… cannot be found in a book. It is only found in your darkest moments. The lesson that… life does not care for you one bit.” Yeosang’s eyes widened. “It cares nothing for you. It will give you nothing, it owes you nothing… It will try and take all that you have worked for, and it will laugh at you while it does it.” His lips trembled. “And so many times, it will succeed. It will take  _ so much  _ from you, Yeosang,” He whispered. “So you cannot allow it to take any more than it already will. Do you give even a inch. You  _ have  _ to fight to keep those things precious to you.” 

“ _ You  _ are precious to me,” Yeosang fought. 

“And you are precious to me,” Seonghwa assured him, hands firm against him. “But I have another who will fight for me.” Yeosang’s eyes flashed to Hongjoong who stared at the ground. “Wooyoung has no one. He has only you. You must be there for him. If not you, who else will?” 

Yeosang closed his eyes again, shaking his head, squeezing Seonghwa’s wrist weakly, and Seonghwa knew he had broken through. “Will you go with him, if we tell you to?” Seonghwa questioned quietly, tilting Yeosang’s head so he looked him in the eyes. 

Seonghwa had done nothing to mend the tear that had taken Yeosang’s heart, but he had forced him to choose. Yeosang nodded silently, guilt stricken and pale, but he nodded. Seonghwa leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead gently. “You are an amazing person, Yeosang,” he whispered, his own heart twisting. “And I know you will only grow. And with Wooyoung at your side, you will never be alone. Understand that this is the greatest gift you could ever have received. And guard it from that which would take it from you.” 

Yeosang nodded, even as he cried, and Seonghwa pressed another quick kiss, caressing his face in the closest thing he could give to a embrace. He suddenly wished that he had told all those compliments he gave Yeosang to him. He would fill some of the silences of Hongjoong’s chambers with talk of his rapidly improving apprentice, but Seonghwa was not sure how many of them he allowed Yeosang to hear. 

Yeosang did not fight him as he guided him away gently, glancing at Wooyoung and nodding at the apprentice trying to stifle his sobs. Wooyoung rushed forward, his own eyes misty as he took Yeosang’s arm, one arm coming around his waist gently and leading him to the other end of the small hall, voice quiet as he murmured something. 

They sat on the ground, Wooyoung pulled Yeosang close as he cried into his shoulder, crushing Wooyoung’s hand in his grasp. Seonghwa looked away. Hongjoong stepped up to him again. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, wetting his lips. “And I am sorry.” 

“But you are right,” Seonghwa said, a little hoarse around the lump in his throat. “Thank you for thinking of them.” 

“I would have dragged them out myself,” Hongjoong promised. “I will not let them be harmed.” 

Seonghwa chuckled despite it all, glancing at Hongjoong’s eyes that were harder, brighter, than they had been.

“You still see us in them.” 

Perhaps that is what it was: Hongjoong had found something concrete to fight for. If not the palace, if not even the people, he could never let someone as untouched as Yeosang and Wooyoung to be harmed by his mistakes. 

“What is there not to see?” Hongjoong whispered, glancing at Wooyoung who carded his fingers through Yeosang’s hair, murmuring something to him, expression stiff and stricken. “It is as if fate has turned back time and taunted us with what we once were.” He shook his head. “I failed to keep you safe, despite my promises. I cannot fail again.” 

“I am still here, am I not?” Seonghwa said, taking Hongjoong’s hand, as if to prove he were real. 

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. “Being alive is hardly a high bar for success.” 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa stressed, forcing him to face him. “What other bar could we have, with the game we played?” he demanded. “The only goal we had was to stay alive. And we  _ made it _ .” 

“Alive, but at what cost?” Hongjoong fought quietly, both of them careful not to allow the others to hear as much as possible. “What did we lose along the way, Seonghwa?”

“What is it- compared to our lives?” he hissed. “This is what you could not seem to understand, Hongjoong. All you could see is that I was hurt. All you could acknowledge was that we failed at hiding well enough. You never let yourself see the larger picture- we could have  _ died _ .  _ Both of us _ . By all rights, that king could have believed that guard. It was pure  _ luck  _ and  _ chance  _ that we were allowed to continue being together. We could have lost everything- not just each other- but we did not.” 

“We-”

“We learned, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa whispered quickly. “We were smarter after that, we were better. Even in our most dangerous escapades, we were  _ smarter _ . I am not saying it was a blessing, but compared to what our lives could have been, we have been  _ flourishing _ .” 

Hongjoong shook his head sharply, opening his mouth. But nothing came out. He closed it, hanging his head and brushing a hand through the messy hair. “I-” He sighed harshly. “I cannot believe that life would ever deny you anything, with your silver tongue.” 

Seonghwa couldn’t laugh. “It works less often than you would think,” he assured him. “For example, any time other than pure desperation. There are many times when I could offer you no comfort, no matter what I spoke. I have since realized that truth is better than comfort. I will not coddle you and try and say that the blame was equal- it is time to stop blaming and start accepting. What happened to us hurt us, but it bettered us, Hongjoong.” He searched his eyes. “We were too lost in each other to ever think of the danger. We were too young, too insane for each other… If we had continued on, we would have gotten more and more reckless… we would have gotten ourselves killed.”

Hongjoong nodded heavily, bringing a hand up to rest on Seonghwa’s shoulder to rest against him. “Better that it was a single angry guard… then someone of more reliable character.” He swallowed. “I do not want that for them,” Hongjoong whispered, glancing at the quiet two boys. “I do not want such an event to need to occur for them to realize.” 

“Different events have happened for them,” Seonghwa said regretfully. “All come to realize in time. It is simply a question of how long it takes and how violent a realization you are faced with.” He touched Hongjoong’s cheek. “But you have perhaps spared them a more jarring, more traumatizing realization. They are hurting now, but they will heal. As we did.” 

“Neither of us have healed,” Hongjoong scoffed bitterly. “You are still scarred, and I cannot even think of it without losing my senses.” 

“We  _ have  _ healed,” Seonghwa pressed firmly. “But we have not  _ forgotten _ . Had we not healed, you still would not be able to look at me without thinking of it. Had we not healed some, we would still be too terrified of discovery to be with each other. Had we not healed, we would have allowed fear to make us hesitant, rather than making us knowledgeable.” 

Hongjoong sighed, quiet for several moments where Seonghwa could only hope that perhaps he had fixed  _ something _ . This is why he desired these moments- these quiet moments where they could simply speak. What chance had they to address what happened in their lives? What time had they to talk through everything, to reopen their wounds to allow them to air out and heal properly? They had none. And they were left with festering wounds that were too painful to even touch. 

Seonghwa simply wanted to allow them heal. Before it may be too late. 

“Sit,” Hongjoong  said quietly, already starting to lower himself. Seonghwa followed, legs folding beneath him. “I am tired, I do not want to stand.” 

“Soon,” Seonghwa promised gently. “Soon, it will be over.” 

Hongjoong nodded, leaning against Seonghwa who rested back at him. He could see Yeosang sitting up, resting his head on Wooyoung’s shoulder as Wooyoung tried to pull the other as close as possible, threading and tugging his hair calmingly. 

The four sat, bated breaths and tired souls, and counted the breaths around them and the beats of their hearts as the only way to tell time. 

 

~~~~~~

 

There was a massive crash that shook the ground they resided beneath, dust and dirt falling. 

All four of them jumped, eyes resting and bodies stiff from sitting to suddenly alert, hearts leaping to their throats. 

“What was that?” Hongjoong rasped, clearing his throat and beating dirt off of his clothes. 

“It came from that way,” Wooyoung said, pointing away from them. 

“They have broken through the main entrance.” All of them turned to Yeosang, who stared, lips white with how hard they pressed together. “They should not have needed to….” He swallowed. “If the villagers needed to break through the doors, the council was not desperate enough to open them.” 

Wooyoung’s mouth fell open. “Which means the fight is not going poorly enough that they would need to.” 

“Which means we are losing.” 

“It does not,” Seonghwa said sternly, both of them looking at him, lost. “There is any manners of reasons that they would break through. And simply because we may not be enough to force them back, does not mean we are failing.” 

Everyone was unsure of what to believe. And Seonghwa, while he firmly believed in every possibility that they may be losing, was sure- he was positive- that this was not what was happening. They  _ had  _ to be winning. 

“I want to go to the stables,” Wooyoung suddenly said, sitting up. Yeosang automatically caught his arm, before even processing what he had said. 

“Wooyoung-” he hissed.

“No one is going anywhere,” Hongjoong ordered sharply. “You said you would stay with Yeosang.” 

“I am not leaving,” Wooyoung said firmly, hand wrapping around Yeosang’s. “But we- if the fight is truly not going favorable- we need some sort of defense. Not a single one of us has any sort of weapon.” 

“The whole point is that we are not fighting,” Hongjoong reminded him. 

“But if someone were to find us?” Wooyoung demanded. “Even just a random servant who had armed himself with a kitchen knife- we would be ill prepared to defend against.” 

Hongjoong glanced at Seonghwa, as if checking his opinion on it all. And Seonghwa, as loathed as he was to admit it, knew that having some sort of weapon might greatly increase their chances of getting out of here without major injury. 

“He… may bring a good point.” 

“You are not going out there!” Yeosang said sharply, glaring at Seonghwa before turning his fiery gaze to Wooyoung. “There is a battle going on!” 

“The stables are away from the entrance,” Wooyoung assured him. “I would not have to go anywhere near them. I would simply run to the stables and find a pitchfork or something-  _ anything  _ to defend ourselves with.” 

“You cannot-” 

Wooyoung turned to Yeosang, grasping his shoulders firmly. “Yeosang, we need-” 

Yeosang grabbed the front of his shirt, fingers curling tightly. “I cannot lose you,” he whispered harshly. “You cannot go.” 

“I would be gone only minutes,” Wooyoung said gently, his lips quirking up. “Are you not the one who always told me I was embarrassingly fast?” 

It was obviously an intimate joke, but Yeosang only hit Wooyoung’s chest harshly. “Do not  _ joke  _ at a time like this!” 

“Yeosang,” he said firmly, grabbing his hand to stop his abuse. “I will not be anywhere near the battle, and everyone will be there. I will not even see a single soul on the way.The sooner you let me go, the sooner I will return. ” 

Yeosang opened his mouth, another angry word on his tongue, but he faltered, eyes softening with defeat. “Let you go…” He took a shuddered breath, releasing Wooyoung’s robes as if he was tearing a limb off. “Go,” he whispered, stepping away with his head lowered before it suddenly snapped up, his eyes blazing. “And I swear  _ to all the gods and spirits of heaven _ , if you return with even a scratch, Wooyoung, I will-” 

Wooyoung suddenly braced a hand behind his head, crashing their lips together roughly. Yeosang made a noise of surprise or discomfort, but he grasped Wooyoung’s sleeves, pulling him closer, both of their eyes shut tightly, as if expecting a blow. Yeosang’s hands trembled as he wrapped them around Wooyoung, his cheek becoming damp even with his eyes shut tightly. 

It was a truly heartbreaking sight. Because it did not matter the likelihood of success- both of them were terrified, for themselves and each other. Seonghwa would never dream to kill their one ounce of comfort they could find by assuring them they would see each other again. 

Wooyoung pulled away, and Yeosang chased after him, but Wooyoung rested their heads together. “I will be right back,” he promised. 

“You had better,” Yeosang threatened, though it was lessened by his weak voice. “Now, go, before I change my mind.” 

Wooyoung kissed him once more, and Seonghwa really did not like how close to goodbye the sight seemed as he pulled away. He glanced at Hongjoong and Seonghwa, who simply nodded. “Thank you,” Hongjoong said quietly. 

Wooyoung nodded. “I will return,” he promised, racing up the steps and disappearing. 

Silence reigned, only broken by Yeosang’s quiet breaths. “Master….” Seonghwa looked over, Yeosang standing with his hands curled into fists at his sides. “I cannot lose him…” 

Seonghwa wished he were strong enough to rip the bars off of this stupid cell. But he was not. He was barely strong enough to nod and respond. “I know.” He could not bring himself to assured him he would not. He could not create such a heavy, hefty lie. 

 

~~~~~~

 

Hongjoong hated the silence. In the distance, you could make out the small sounds of yelling, or once, what sounded like plates and glass shattering. 

Yeosang sat against the wall, staring at his knees and whispering to himself. From what Hongjoong could make out, it sounded like he was reciting a book, fingers tapping and grasping and flexing nervously. Wooyoung had been gone for maybe five minutes, if his count was correct. 

Seonghwa was silent, occasionally glancing at Yeosang, but most of the time, he stared at Hongjoong, occasionally bringing his hands up and kissing them gently. It was calm. And that was terrifying. 

“Where is he?” Yeosang suddenly broke the silence. He looked up. “It has been nearly ten minutes. It does not take that long to reach the stables.” 

“He must be more careful than simply running the whole way,” Seonghwa comforted quickly, as if he had the excuse prepared. “Just because he is not likely to run into anyone does not mean he is not careful. Wooyoung is more clever than that.” 

Yeosang sighed, looking away once more. “I am scared.” 

“You would be a fool if you were not,” Hongjoong assured him. “But you are still here, so you may be frightened, but you are not a coward.” 

More silence. Seonghwa massaged his hand gently, loosening it from the fist it had been curled into since Wooyoung left. 

Footsteps. 

Yeosang’s head snapped up, but Seonghwa hushed him quickly, waiting. Hongjoong waited for the four taps, but there was silence. 

He tensed. “Something is-” 

Two people rounded the corner. Hongjoong saw, first, a guard with a spear aimed at them, and second, behind the guard, Hwang with a bloody lip and bruised right half of his face. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa leapt to their feet. Seonghwa had requested that Hwang be brought to him alive, but there was no Yunho or San marching behind him. 

“Excellent work,” Hwang rasped, his voice sounded as if he had swallowed glass. “Perhaps not all you guards are useless. If nothing else, you have lots of time to see where annoying kings go.” 

Hongjoong glanced at Seonghwa who glared at Hwang with more contempt than he had ever seen the gentle man possess. “Running away?” he demanded, voice dripping with anger.  Hongjoong knew the two often went head to head, but all he cared at the moment was that this was the man who ordered the guards to take Seonghwa. The first person who had moved against them. Against Seonghwa. The first man to always demand retribution, the first to suggest taking more from villagers and noblemen. The most dangerous snake in Hongjoong’s wretched collection. 

“Hardly,” Hwang chuckled. “Merely taking a side detour. All the fighting- and yet the two guilty of the most crimes have escaped it.” His eyes trailed over Seonghwa, then Hongjoong. “Truly, scholar, as much as I hated you, I at least thought you to be  _ intelligent _ . In all the fathoms about what was going on between you and the king, lustful satiation was not even written within the list! How rattled was your mind… satisfying bodily desires with the king of all people! You could not find a whore expensive enough for your taste?” 

“Well, at the very least, your list was accurate,” Seonghwa spat. “There is nothing lustful between Hongjoong and I.” 

Hwang’s nose wrinkled as if there were a putrid stench. “Soiling a king’s name on your common tongue,” he scoffed. “Though, I suppose, once a king has lost all respect, there is not much pristineness left to his name.” 

“Lost respect?” Hongjoong laughed darkly. “Where has respect every laid within your mind?” he demanded. “You respect no one.” 

“And you are respected by no one!” Hwang shouted. “You are soft and vapid! And now, you have removed the one thing that distinguished you- your title. You would throw away a hundred years of tradition for a concubine. You soil a holy and great bloodline with common  _ filth _ !” 

“I am still king,” Hongjoong grit, fists curling. “The social classes still remain. I simply removed a pointless wall between two people who cared for each other.” 

“A wall,” he sneered. “You speak as if this were a recurring problem and not the result of a scholar whoring himself out to a king.” His eyes suddenly snapped behind Hongjoong, who had forgotten Yeosang was still there, the boy silently glaring on. “Though, perhaps it is a much more common problem than I had originally imagined…” 

Hongjoong stepped to the side, blocking his view of Yeosang. 

“When I heard the most vague whispers of the head scholar’s apprentice being involved with a stable hand, I laughed. What are the chances someone else in the castle would be insane enough to try and step outside of their station. Where is your whore, boy?” he snapped. “Dead in the entrance hall? Or did he simply run?” 

“Unlike you, Councilor Hwang, I never had an illusion of your intelligence,” Yeosang said, voice quiet and shaking with anger. “And here, you prove yourself to be even more of a fool than I imagined. For how could a man like you ever stand before people like us and claim superiority? You stand before good and wise men as a blithering fool blinded by pride and anger, and yet claim us to be fools. Answer me, Councilor… what truly angered you about the king’s proclamation? The soiling of a bloodline? Or the removal of your own illusion of power and station?”

“You truly are your master’s apprentice,” Hwang sneered, face red and teeth bared. “And truthfully, because of that, you have lost any chance of ever making it out of this battle.” 

“Angered by the truth?” Hongjoong taunted, sure that if they just kept Hwang talking, kept him angry, they might find a way out. Perhaps Wooyoung would return with his weapon. Seonghwa was keeping a careful eye on the guard’s spear that aimed at Hongjoong and the apprentice standing behind him a few feet. “Did you ever care anything for the people? The crown? Or did all you see was a pawn to attempt to gain whatever sliver of power you could gain claim to?”

“And that is why you are a fool of a king,” Hwang snapped, stepping towards Hongjoong. Seonghwa made a warning noise, and whether it worked or not, Hwang stopped, body trembling with rage. “You are soft. You would give your entire kingdom away for a crust of bread because  _ this man  _ told you to.” He pointed a sharp finger at Seonghwa who merely spared him a glance. 

“This man,” Hongjoong repeated darkly. “You say it as if he was not your better in every way. As if he is not the reason our kingdom still stands. We would have burned to ruins, had I followed even a single one of your demands!” 

“He is a  _ bookkeeper _ !” Hwang shouted. “And simply because he pleasured you, you fell at his feet like a drunkard!” 

“And this is where you are the biggest fool this palace has ever seen,” Seonghwa spoke gently, calmly. Hongjoong couldn’t take his eyes off Hwang to look at his expression. The spear wavered slightly, as if the guard were growing tired. “Because you see two people of different society… rather than two people who learned each others’ hearts and souls and chose each other.” Could Hongjoong hope to grab it from the guard? 

Hwang practically snarled at him, all the anger coming out in inhumane sounds. “You are nothing but an insect beneath me! Even the king is nothing- he has no pride in himself, he has no worth to his name!”

“Does it anger you?” Hongjoong demanded, stepped forward slightly, earning his ire. The spear remained poised. There was maybe ten feet between them. If he were fast... . “The fact that there a million people on this earth below your status, but compared to whom, you are worthless?”

Hwang whipping around, grabbing the spear and ripping it from the guard’s hands. 

He drew his arm back, expression murderous, and Hongjoong was sure he had lost his mind. He lunged forward, but Hwang already released his weapon. 

Hongjoong’s stomach dropped as he flinched out of the way, curling to the side. 

He felt a fiery pain tear across his bicep, and he cried out, clutching at an area already slick with blood. 

“ _ Hongjoong- _ ”

“ _ Yeosang _ !” 

Someone flew passed Hongjoong, and he hissed through the throbbing in his arm. He turned quickly to Seonghwa, but the man within the cell was staring behind Hongjoong, eyes wide and unseeing. 

Hongjoong turned once more. 

He saw, first, Wooyoung, kneeling on the ground, a pitchfork casted aside, his back to Hongjoong. And second, Wooyoung was yelling. 

“ _ -sang, no! Come on, oh God, Yeosang, please- _ ”

And third, Yeosang. Limp and still and pale, laying on his back, the shoulder of his robes stained a deep red, concentrated around the shaft protruding from his shoulder. 

“ _ -Yeosang, Yeosang, come on, I-” _

Wooyoung reached for the shaft, as if intending to pull it out, hands shaking, but he faltered, hands falling to Yeosang’s chest, curling in the fabric. “Open your eyes!” he cried, shaking Yeosang’s body, making the spear tilt dangerous. Hongjoong knew he needed to do something. But his eyes were stuck on the boy with bloodied robes. 

“Yeosang!” 

_ Seonghwa!  _

“Please!” 

_ He has done nothing!  _

“Seonghwa!” Wooyoung whipped around, hysterical tears choking him. “What do I do?” he cried, slowly falling apart as Seonghwa could only stare, hands clutching the bars weakly. 

When he received no answer, Wooyoung turned back around, face palor as he wrapped his hands around the shaft of the spear. He braced himself, looking away before ripping the spear from Yeosang’s shoulder. Blood flowed out faster, and Wooyoung sobbed as he tore a large chunk from his robes, pressing it to Yeosang’s shoulder with all his weight. 

“Ah!” Yeosang’s eyes didn’t open, but his body jerked, as if trying to get away from the pressure, his chest heaving. Wooyoung jerked back at the pained cry, eyes wide and horrified and terrified, hands trembling on the fabric soaked in blood. 

He cried as he pressed it to him once more, applying the same pressure and fighting Yeosang who cried out against it. “I’m sorry,” he cried, voice broken. “I’m sorry, I am so sorry- Yeosang, please-” 

_ I am so sorry.  _

Wooyoung continued to plead, one hand holding the scrap of cloth and the other pinning Yeosang’s other arm down. 

_ I do not want that for them. I do not want such an event to need to occur for them to realize. _

“Please, please, don’t die,” Wooyoung begged. “Please, I was not here-  _ I should have protected you- _ ” 

_ But you have perhaps spared them a more jarring, more traumatizing realization.  _

“Pitiful little wretches,” Hongjoong heard Hwang scoff behind him. He turned slowly, his ears roaring loudly as Hwang gazed at Wooyoung and Yeosang in disgust as if they were animals that had died on his steps, rather than a boy trying to save the one he had chosen. 

_ They are hurting now, but they will heal. As we did _ .

Hongjoong whipped around, snatching the pitchfork Wooyoung had brought and turning back to Hwang. 

“Hongjoong!” 

The guard rushed forward, and Hongjoong stopped moved forward, the pitchfork raised as a barrier between them. The guard halted as well, hands raised, expression like marble. “Move,” Hongjoong ordered darkly. “You may have aided him, but the only man I plan to kill is him.” He jerked his head. “Unless you desire to force me to raise that number.” His grip tightened on the pitchfork. “If you wish to survive this night… go. Leave him to me, and I will not hunt you down.” 

Hongjoong honestly did not care what the man did. If he had to end another life to take Hwang, he would. Because Yeosang- 

Quite, young Yeosang. 

And Wooyoung- 

Brave, smiling Wooyoung- 

Were screaming behind him. Bleeding behind him. Because of one man. 

He had failed. 

Once again. 

_Never_ _again_. 

The guard hesitated for only a moment. But immediate fear won out over whatever the councilor held over him.  He reached into his pocket, threw something down quickly. 

He ran. 

“Coward!” Hwang yelled, turning to follow as the guard disappeared up the stairs. 

Hongjoong lowered the pitchfork, grabbing the back of his robes and yanking him to the ground. 

Hwang, the foolish, stupid, evil, old man that he was, stumbled and crashed to the prison floor, head cracking against the floor harshly. He cried out, curling, but Hongjoong planted the three prongs to his chest, forcing him to lay flat. 

Hwang barely breathed, staring up at Hongjoong with wide, terrified eyes. 

“Scholar,” he hissed, not looking from Hongjoong. “Scholar, you would let him kill me? Would you abandon every talk you had of peace and mercy? Am I the exception to your morals?” he taunted. 

Hongjoong did not look away, waiting for Seonghwa’s voice, his denial or his urging. 

“I was going to urge Hongjoong not to kill you,” Seongha confessed. 

Hongjoong fought back a sneer. He wanted him dead. For what he had done to them. Do not make me let him go, Hongjoong begged. 

“I would hate myself for allowing him to stain his hands. I would spend the rest of my life angry that I would allow him to dirty himself in death.” 

Hwang held his breath. Hongjoong spared Seonghwa a glance, and found him glaring at the man, disgust in his eyes. 

“But, unfortunately, I am unable to take the burden from him. So I will have to live with hating myself.” He stepped away from the bars one step. “This is for the blood on your hands that you put there for vanities’ sake. For that boy that you harmed…. Understand that I find no pleasure in your death, Hwang…. But I do find justice. 

“ _ You would not- _ ” 

Hongjoong slammed the prongs down. 

His blood roared. He did not hear anything aside his own heartbeat. He saw a lot of blood, but ignored it. He turned away from Hwang. He did not want to see him, did not want to risk feeling regret for a death he caused. What he did see, though, was laying on the ground beside Hwang… 

What the guard had thrown down. 

A key. 

He tore the pitchfork out, letting it fall to the ground. He picked up the key, splattered with still warm blood, and looked at Seonghwa. 

His expression was made of marble. He simply nodded. Hongjoong rushed over, inserting it into the lock and feeling the barrier between them give way. Both men ignored each other and the body spreading gore over the floor. 

They fell beside Wooyoung. Yeosang’s face was pale and slack, but it could seem so much like he was simply sleeping. “Wooyoung, go find Yunho,” Seonghwa ordered, voice shaking but strong. But when Hongjoong glances at him his eyes were slightly wild. 

Wooyoung shook his head, pressing against Yeosang still. Seonghwa pushed his hands under Wooyoung’s, taking the cloth from him, but Wooyoung resisted, tears dripping onto Yeosang’s robes. He was pale, brow furrowed tightly. 

“Wooyoung.” Hongjoong took his face, forcing him to look up. “Go,” he ordered. “We cannot help Yeosang. We need Yunho. Understand? You have to go so you can help Yeosang.” 

His expression threatened to shatter, but he nodded quickly, standing on weak legs and rushing to the stairs, nearly tripping. Hongjoong just hoped Yunho was still alive. Was that why Hwang was here? To finish them? Or was it to escape a losing battle? 

Now, as things stopped roaring, as people stopped moving, Hongjoong was violently aware of Yeosang bleeding out under Seonghwa’s hands, the body cooling behind them that Hongjoong had ended the life of… His stomach churned. 

“How bad is your arm?” Seonghwa questioned, leaning up to put further pressure on Yeosang’s shoulder. He glanced up, but didn’t take his eyes from his apprentice for long. “Hongjoong,” he prompted at his silence. 

What if Yeosang died? What if Wooyoung had to face the near-hell that Hongjoong almost had? What if Hongjoong’s pitiful attempts to bring them together tore them apart irreparably? What if… 

This was all his fault. 

He failed them. 

“ _ Hongjoong _ ,” Seonghwa snapped, and he jerked back to the matter at hand, Seonghwa staring at him through his bangs. “How bad is your arm?” he demanded.  

Oh. Right, he had been hurt. The spear had scraped by him and flown straight into Yeosang- 

“Not worth noting,” he said, glancing down and seeing his left sleeve bloodied down to his wrist. 

Hongjoong reached forward, brushing hair from Yeosang’s forehead, feeling clammy skin under his touch. “Imagine,” he whispered hoarsely. “The worst thing they thought could happen was leaving the other person behind…” 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said sternly, earning his attention to his eyes that were cold. “Yeosang is  _ not  _ going to die.” 

And Hongjoong almost pointed out the false-hope in his voice, almost voiced his own anger at himself, his own bitterness, almost told Seonghwa that he didn’t know that- 

But then Seonghwa’s expression trembled and his hands shook where they were slowly coated in his apprentice’s blood, and Hongjoong’s heart sank. Seonghwa was just as scared as Wooyoung. Perhaps more, perhaps less, but he was  _ scared _ . Yeosang had been his apprentice for  _ years _ \- he cared for him in a special way- different from Hongjoong or Wooyoung. 

And the thought that Yeosang might die was something Seonghwa could not allow. It was something even his brilliant mind could not handle. Not by the hands of the enemy and not by their own hands. Hongjoong wanted to kick himself. 

For once in your miserable life, think of someone but yourself. 

“He will not,” Hongjoong said firmly, touching Seonghwa’s cheek gently. Seonghwa watched him with shaking eyes, and Hongjoong nodded. “We will not allow it.” 

Seonghwa swallowed, and Hongjoong thought the comforts were pitiful compared to what Seonghwa could do, but the other nodded slowly, lowering his eyes to Yeosang. “He will not die,” He whispered, more assured. “Wooyoung will find Yunho.” 

Hongjoong sat back, tearing one arm from his robes, folding it carefully. “Here,” he said, leaning over. “Switch them.” Wooyoung’s was so coated in blood, it was doing nothing. 

Seonghwa quickly tossed the other away and reapplied the next one. God, there was so much blood- 

Pounding footsteps. 

Hongjoong turned, prepared to reach for the pitchfork again, to defend Seonghwa as he tried to keep his apprentice alive- 

“We won!” a voice shouted- San’s voice. “We won, they are subdued, we-” 

The servant rounded the corner, smile wide and relieved, his eye bruised, but he was alive, and they had won- 

He jerked to a stop, smile melting like a candle tossed into a bonfire, eyes widening in horror as he looked from Hwang upon on the floor to the two men huddled over Yeosang. “W-What-” he whispered, and Hongjoong suddenly pointed. 

“Where is Yunho?” he demanded. 

San’s tongue was thick in his mouth. “He- In his chambers, he’s tending to people wounded-” 

“Help us,” Seonghwa ordered, gesturing him over quickly. “Hongjoong, keep the pressure-” 

San closed his eyes against the blood and limp body as he grabbed Yeosang’s leg as Seonghwa took his upper body. Hongjoong walked with them, holding the cloth firmly. It was hard to get up the stairs, but desperation made them quick. 

Yeosang remained asleep between them. 

It took entirely too long and yet no time at all to arrive at Yunho’s chambers, passing servants and villagers who called after them, but they paid no heed. Hongjoong was only painfully aware of every splash of blood they left behind them. 

They threw the doors open. “Yunho!” Seonghwa yelled, voice a touch too hysterical. Yunho jumped where he wrapped a bandage around someone’s head, expression switching from relieved to horrified. “Yeosang-” He dropped what he was doing. “On this bed,” he beckoned quickly. “Jongho!” They hadn’t even seen the other servant helping wrap a man’s leg. “Get me my kit!” 

Seonghwa and San laid Yeosang down, stepping away as Yunho stood beside him, moving the cloth and examining the wound. “A spear,” Hongjoong croaked when neither of the others seemed capable to speaking. 

Yunho cursed under his breath, and Seonghwa grabbed Hongjoong’s hand tight enough to hurt. 

“He has lost a lot of blood,” Yunho muttered, grabbing the roll that Jonho rushed over. “Perhaps too much-” He glanced up, prepared to say something, his eyes passing over Seonghwa and stalling his tongue. “Wait outside,” he ordered. “I will do what I can.” 

Seonghwa didn’t move. Hongjoong had to guide him away, his body resistant and pulling away from Hongjoong weakly. “Hongjoong, no,” he said as he pulled him from the room, head twisting to keep his eyes on him. “Hongjoong, I cannot leave him-” 

“Find Wooyoung,” Hongjoong ordered San who was watching Seonghwa with heavy eyes. “He was looking for Yunho, bring him here, tell him what has happened.” 

San nodded quickly, running off, leaving only Seonghwa and Hongjoong standing outside the doors of Yunho’s chambers. Seonghwa stared at the doors, hands shaking, eyes hopeless as he lost sight of his apprentice. 

“He will live,” Hongjoong said sternly. “Yunho knows what he is doing.” Seonghwa did not respond. “Seonghwa,” Hongjoong urged, turning him to face him and holding his face gently. “Yeosang will live.” 

Please, gods, do not make him a liar. 

Hongjoong pulled Seonghwa down until they sat against the wall, pressed against each other like the bars had prevents, legs and arms tangled. Seonghwa rested his head in the crook of Hongjoong’s neck, gentle breaths brushing his skin. 

They had won. But at what cost? Yeosang and who knew how many other people… No, Yeosang was not dead yet. 

Hongjoong kissed the top of Seonghwa’s head, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close, burying his nose in his hair. Seonghwa had been holding Hongjoong for so long… Hongjoong just wished he was enough to return the favor. 

“I do not think he even knows how proud I am,” Seonghwa whispered after a spell. “Even after he risked himself to help… I was so cold and indifferent to him… I treated him like a child and then expected him to act as an adult.” 

Hongjoong hushed him, whispering into his hair. “He knew,” he assured him. “He refused to leave you, he would not allow you to die- he knew, Seonghwa, I promise you.” 

He sucked in a weak breath. They were silent. 

Wooyoung appeared, running straight to the doors and prepared to enter Yunho’s chambers. “Not yet,” Hongjoong stopped him. “When Yunho calls for us.” 

Wooyoung looked ready to fight it, to refuse, but the fire died and he sank against the door, head dropping to his knees. “I should not have left,” he whispered. “I should never have left him-” He sniffed, robes darkening under the teardrops. “He threatened me if I got hurt… and I never even thought to threaten him back.” 

Hongjoong swallowed around the needle in his throat. “I am sorry,” he said. “I moved out of the way… when they threw the spear. I should have done more to protect him.” 

Hongjoong expected Wooyoung to blame him, to curse his name and threaten him for if Yeosang died. But he simply shook his head slowly. “You would have done all you could.” He swallowed thickly. “Yeosang would not blame you, and I will not either.” 

Yeosang. Who would not even fight… he was the last person who should have been harmed. 

The time ticked on. Wooyoung appeared to have fallen asleep, but most likely not. Perhaps, like Seonghwa, he just rested after such an ordeal. Such a vapid word for such a scarring occurrence. 

The door opened. 

Wooyoung’s head snapped up, sunken eyes staring at Yunho who exited. Seonghwa followed, his grip tightening on Hongjoong apprehensively. There was a lot of blood on his robes. “The bleeding has stopped,” he said, glancing between the three of them. “I do not think he will die, but he is still in a dangerous time until he replenishes his blood. He will likely not wake for a while and-” 

“But he is alive?” Wooyoung demanded, pushing himself to his feet with wide eyes. 

Yunho nodded. “For now… and if I follow my gut, for a long time.” 

Hongjoong felt his chest unlock. Seonghwa ducked his head to his shoulder again, his skin wet. “Oh, thank God,” he breathed weakly. 

Wooyoung looked torn between laughing and crying. So he did both, covering his face with his hands and sucking in deep breaths. “Can I see him?” he asked quickly, voice thick. 

Yunho nodded, stepping aside. “Be quiet, though. He and others need their rest.” 

Wooyoung nodded quickly, practically pushing Yunho aside to get inside.  Hongjoong waited for Seonghwa to follow, but he did not move from against Hongjoong. “Are you going to see him?” he asked gently, threading fingers through his hair. 

Seonghwa shook his head slowly. “Allow Wooyoung time with him… It was worse for him, I am sure. I can see him later. I will grant them their privacy for now.” 

Hongjoong hummed in agreement. “Besides,” Seonghwa whispered. “I am… very tired. This whole ordeal has been… something I would soon like to forget.” 

And Hongjoong often forgot just how good Seonghwa was at acting. How confident and assured he could seem while panicking and dying inside his heart. Hongjoong kissed the top of his head firmly. “It is over,” he promised quietly. “We are safe. Yeosang and Wooyoung are safe.” 

Seonghwa’s hand released Hongjoong’s hand and instead wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly. “I was so scared,” he whispered, voice shaking with tears. “I was so scared for us, for them, everyone-” He choked slightly. “I was stuck behind those bars and Yeosang was bleeding and you were hurt-” 

Hongjoong hushed him gently, stroking his hair, his chest twisting. “We made it,” he assured him. “We can rebuild now. You have fought so  _ hard _ , Seonghwa,” he whispered. “You have fought so much for me…you can lay your weapons down now.  Now, my fight begins. For you.” 

Seonghwa cried quietly. And it was difficult. Because Hongjoong was accustomed to tears of desperation and fear and anger… but they had never had much time or use for tears of relief. For the release of pressure that took so many weights you  had not even realized where placed upon you. 

And you breathed for the first time, and it was just so much all at once- 

Seonghwa suddenly lifted his head, staring at Hongjoong, chilled fingers touching his wrist. “Will you kiss me?” he whispered thickly. 

And Hongjoong could not help but laugh. 

_ “Will you kiss me?”  _

_ Seonghwa dropped his books, stumbling back, his foot catching on the table and sending him crashing to the ground. “Seonghwa!” Hongjoong gasped, kneeling down beside him and helping him sit up. “I am sorry!” he said quickly, turning away and not meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry, that was completely inappropriate- ignore everything I have said. What book were we on?” he babbled, searching through his dropped tomes.  _

_ Seonghwa’s hand caught his wrist loosely, and Hongjoong lifted his head, swallowing. Seonghwa stared at him in confusion and perhaps a little in awe. “Your High-” He caught himself at Hongjoong’s automatic eye roll, despite his nerves. “Hongjoong,” he corrected. “Why did you ask that?”  _

_ Hongjoong had to drop his eyes, staring at the books. “I- I do not know.”  _

_ “If you did not know, you would not have risked saying it.”  _

_ “Then you know that there is only one reason I could be saying it!” Hongjoong burst, cheeks aflame. “Do not play your word-games at such a time.” _

_ “I am not playing,” Seonghwa said firmly, and so infuriatingly calm all the time. He tugged Hongjoong’s hand until he looked up. “But I am ensuring that you understand what it is you are asking. I must know why you want to gauge whether or not I am willing to risk giving it to you.”  _

_ Hongjoong understood. He understood that everyone he saw Seonghwa, he was enchanted. He understood that everytime Seonghwa spoke, it was like listening to water splashing over rock. He understood that when Seonghwa smiled at him, touched his hand, praised his hard work, his heart felt like it would leap out of his chest.  _

_ He understood that perhaps Seonghwa did not experience all this. Perhaps he simply humored the prince as a friend. A close friend, one with a strong bond they had built, but a friend nonetheless.  _

_ Hongjoong wanted to look away but Seonghwa’s eyes were like medusa- freezing him in place. “I- You know how I feel.” Seonghwa nodded, signalling him further on. “And I… I wish to show you… in a real way… what I feel. I am not like you- with your complex words. But I hope to show you… lest you doubt my stumbling tongue.”  _

_ Hongjoong  looked up quickly. “I am not telling you to,” He said quickly. “I have told you- I do not want you to treat me as a royal within these walls. And that includes telling me to impale myself on a sword for being so forward.”  _

_ But Seonghwa only laughed, leaning forward. “Are you certain?” he asked, eyes scanning Hongjoong’s. “Because this is a step that you cannot take back, Hongjoong.”  _

_ Hongjoong’s mouth was dry with anticipation and apprehension. “Would you believe me if I told you I have lost sleep over it for months?” Months of being terrified to cross that line. Months of waking up to nightmares of what could happen as a consequence.  _

_ Months of imagining what it might be like to be with Seonghwa and see his mind and soul bared and unhidden.  _

_ “I could believe it,” Seonghwa whispered, and he was so close. Closer than anyone had ever been to Hongjoong, and he could feel the heat of his body and the warmth of his breath over his lips. “I suppose it would just be similar to my own experience.”  _

_ Seonghwa lifted a slow hand, sliding it along Hongjoong’s jaw and he shivered. No one had ever touched him like this before. No one had ever  _ dared _ touch him like this before and it was thrilling as Seonghwa leaned close enough their lips brushed. Hongjoong’s eyes fell closed, focused wholly on the sensation of Seonghwa’s warmth against him.  _

_ Was this truly happening?  _

_ “You must take the final step, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa whispered. “I have given my answer… now, you must finish it.”  _

_ Hongjoong asked a question. Seonghwa answered. It was up to Hongjoong to decide what he did with the information.  _

_ And Hongjoong swallowed, one hand curling into the chest of Seonghwa’s robes and pulling him forward the centimeter between them.  _

Hongjoong’s lips brushed Seonghwa’s slowly at first, a simple comfort of proximity, and Hongjoong was hit like an arrow to the chest at the realization that they were in a hallway. In public. Where anyone would see, anyone could walk by- 

Seonghwa pressed against him, shifting upward, lips warm and rough against his. Their hands were covered in dried blood. It didn’t matter. It mattered nothing who saw. Hongjoong was free to act as he pleased. He and Seonghwa were free- 

He pushed against him, and Seonghwa moved until he was sitting up and Hongjoong got to his knees, kissing him harder, throat closing. They were free- 

Seonghwa rested a hand against his waist, fingers holding him tight enough to bruise, a small noise sounding at the back of his throat that Hongjoong swallowed, licking at Seonghwa’s lips and requesting entrance that the other happily allowed. He explored the warmth and velvet heat slowly, purposefully because it did not matter. 

They were free. 

Hongjoong’s tears mingled with Seonghwa’s on their lips, but Seonghwa simply pulled him, guiding Hongjoong until he straddled his lap, back in that position of power where he could direct Seonghwa, but all he did was thread his fingers through his hair and kiss him deeper, tongues meeting in a faster dance the longer they were pressed together. 

Relief and ecstasy made his head spin. His chest tighten. They gasped into the kiss, not willing to part even for breath. What need had he for breath? He had Seonghwa, they were  _ free-  _

Seonghwa moaned slightly as Hongjoong tugged on his hair, directing his head to tilt back a little farther, sucking Seonghwa’s tongue into his mouth and tasting him deeper. Seonghwa’s fingers pressed circular bruises into his side, creeping down to his thighs and squeezing them as if to steady himself. Seonghwa pulled him closer, fingers curling in his robes and pulling him down farther and farther, trying to meld, trying to become one, trying to enter into each other- 

“I love you,” Hongjoong whispered between their lips, cracking his eyes open to watch Seonghwa open his eyes. It seemed so vapid, so childish, but Hongjoong could think of nothing else to say. “I wish to be with you forever,” he added quickly, afraid of seeming lacking with the insignificant word. 

“Forever and always, I am yours,” Seonghwa returned, kissing him hard and nipping at his lip, making Hongjoong hiss. “Until our last breaths and beyond,” he promised

Hongjoong pressed their foreheads together, still unable to see through his misty eyes. “We can be such now,” he whispered. “Seonghwa, we are free to be together.” 

Seonghwa swallowed, kissing him quickly. “Not quite,” he whispered. “We have steps to take. Things to ensure… before we are truly free.” 

Hongjoong scoffed harshly, taking his face between his palms firmly. “I care not for the specifics,” he said honestly. “There is no one here that would begrudge us each other, and for that I am  _ dying _ .” 

Seonghwa kissed his neck gently, making Hongjoong swallow. “You will not,” he said firmly. “I have had enough of death and fear.” 

There was no more fear. (Perhaps it was preemptive, but all Hongjoong knew was that they were alive and it was a feeling relatable to no other.) 

He kissed Seonghwa slowly, taking his time and reveling in the silence around them. For once, they could just  _ feel-  _

“You Highn- Oh.” 

Hongjoong paused, still resting his lips against Seonghwa’s for a moment before he sighed against him and turned, seeing Yunho averting his eyes to the ceiling at the intimate scene. Hongjoong almost wanted to laugh, relief and lack of oxygen making him almost giddy. “Yes, Yunho?” 

He still stared upward. “I would like to examine your arm, now. I apologize for taking so long, I had more pressing injuries.” 

“I am busy,” Hongjoong said, and Seonghwa pinched his side. “Seonghwa-” 

“Go,” He ordered, kissing him quickly before pulling back. “Before you wait too long and make it worse.” 

“But we were in the middle of-” 

Seonghwa pressed a finger to his lips and smiled gently, eyes shining. “Let him treat you. If what you said was true, we have time, Hongjoong. We do not need to steal it all within a few moments.” 

And perhaps that was what twisted Hongjoong’s heart the most. They had time. 

They had  _ time.  _ To sit, to explore, to speak, to bask, to test, to taste, to push, to pull, to do everything- they had  _ time _ . 

Not just thirty minutes locked in a single room. Not a stolen, horrific night separated by bars. 

Time. Years. The rest of their  _ lives _ \- 

Seonghwa pushed him up, and Hongjoong sighed, but stood, helping Seonghwa stand as well, and turning to Yunho who finally lowered his eyes. “The first bed,” he requested, narrowing his eyes as Hongjoong smiled at him when he passed. “You were insufferable, but this will make you worse, will it not?” 

Hongjoong chuckled, sitting upon the covers. “Well, I am currently living in a state of euphoria at having survived. But I will need full updates on what happened and what people expect will happen now.”  Even Hongjoong’s joy and Seonghwa- addled brain knew that this bliss could not last. He gazed around the room at the mats and beds occupied by bleeding guards, servants, and villagers. He swallowed, stomach dropping. “How many dead?” 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa broke in sharply, but he looked to Yunho pointedly. 

“How many?” he requested carefully. 

Yunho sighed as he grabbed a roll of bandages. “Of the almost two hundred we had… about fifty.” 

A fourth of them. Suddenly, it seemed easy to live outside of the euphoria. He nodded, hanging his head. Fifty people. Gone. Because of him. Seonghwa slipped their fingers together. It was a hard truth, a bitter pill clinging to the back of his mouth. But it was for a purpose. 

A purpose that had survived. Hongjoong could not let them die in vain. He nodded slowly. “Alright,” he said hoarsely. “Patch me up. We will aid in treating the other injuries, and everyone will rest after… everything.” If Hongjoong was exhausted, everyone else must be dead on their feet. “In the morning, we will hold a meeting with those who are still present. We have much to discuss.” 

Yunho nodded, beginning to pull his robe back to examine the wound that stung as it was exposed to air, and Seonghwa squeezed his hand, carding his free hand through his hair comfortingly. 

It was not perfect. It was not a happy ending. 

But it was  _ an  _ ending. Perhaps not to the whole story, but to a chapter. 

And now, Hongjoong’s new chapter began. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to let you guys know: THIS IS NOT THE END. THIS STORY WILL CONTINUE   
> so don’t give up on it just yet okay? ㅇuㅇ


	6. The Weight of Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t hate me for this ㅇuㅇ I really tried to do justice to everyone but I’m really not sure about anything so just have this and be disappointed, it’s okay, I understand ^_^  
> But I really do hope you enjoy this! Thank you to all those who comments!!

The castle was, miraculously, not in ruins. 

The bits and pieces of rooms were smashed, furniture decimated, from weapons or from violence, and there were scorch marks marring some softer flooring. There were swordmarks along the walls, having ripped off bits from wooden tables or chairs. But the palace itself was unharmed. 

Because for the taxing, absolute horror that was spawned from it, the battle was rather small and insignificant in the grand scheme of life and war. And that caused such an ache in Hongjoong’s heart, that you could look at the loss of such a small amount of people would be seen as  _ lucky  _ or a  _ low number _ . 

Compared to wars of nations, they had only four hundred people among both sides combined. Fifty of their own, dead. All but a handful (who begged for mercy and swore allegiance before the battle) of the entirety of the councilors’ people, killed.

They could not force the councilors back through the door, Yunho had explained as he bandaged Hongjoong’s arm. They were close to being pushed back into the palace, but the villagers outside forced the door open with a tree trunk they had cut down and heaved against the door. From there, it was them on both sides of the enemy, and they subdued them quickly. 

A small enemy group broke through their ranks, scattering, and they were hunted down. 

Which was how Hwang got to them. 

Hongjoong relayed his side of battle quickly and quietly, not lingering on any one thought. Yunho’s expression was slightly sick, but heavy with pity. “You should not have had to do that,” he murmured quietly. 

It didn’t matter. 

Because he did.  

 

Hongjoong stood on the outer path around the palace, his arms by his sides as he gazed at the smoke from burning bodies rising over the trees. So many good men…. And so many demons- 

No, they were not demons. They were not scum. They were men. Horrible, selfish, cruel men… but men all the same. The same as him. The same as any of the survivors. 

His heart was heavy, like a rock settled between his ribs. His mind was calm, but stagnant, staring at the smoke and wondering if there was a way to have saved them.. 

What did it matter if there was? He had not found it in time. They were dead, and there was nothing that could bring them back. Hongjoong wished that there was a way to turn back time. Even if nothing changed, he wanted to know what he would face. He wanted to go through the motions, knowing what it would end with. 

The burning grave had been going since the afternoon, and it continued to paint the sky grey into the evening as the sun set. Hongjoong did not move, watching the last remnants of the guards, the servants, the villagers who had defended him, despite their own reservations. 

“Hongjoong.” 

He did not turn away, simply humming as he watched the smoke rose. The sky was a bloody red as the sun set. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said again, voice gentle like a whisper. 

He finally turned, slowly, his body stiff and resisting his mind, and he saw Seonghwa standing  a few feet behind him, hand extended towards Hongjoong. 

“Come inside,” he requested. “It will be dark soon.” His eyes were soft, but heavy with the same weight that settled on Hongjoong’s chest. “You can still see from your room.” 

Hongjoong stared at the hand, feeling like his mind had been disconnected from his body. But after several moments, he stepped forward, taking Seonghwa’s hand gingerly with chilled fingers. “Minsoo says they are receiving a proper burial,” he said quietly as Seonghwa guided him towards the palace. 

“Even the councilors?” Seonghwa asked quietly, voice smooth and comforting against Hongjoong’s heavy soul. 

“Yes,” he murmured. “I asked him to provide for them as well.” 

They entered the palace in silence, walking down the hall and passing people moving about, repairing and searching for one thing or another. Some watched them pass with wide eyes that did not bother trying to hide. Some stared from the corner of their eyes, following them with whispers of “It is true!” 

“You are a good man, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said after so long, Hongjoong had almost forgot what they were speaking of. 

“I do not feel like a good man,” he said. Seonghwa’s fingers squeezing his gently. 

“Whether you acknowledge it or not, it is true. It was for that reason that all this was allowed to be.” He gestured around them, and then between them. 

Hongjoong did not feel like a good man. He felt like a poor king and a worse person. It was not so desperate a darkness, as he had felt when he began this whole ordeal. It was not fast and violent and deadly, as he had felt before. But sadness gripped his heart firmly, self-hatred rooting around the surface of his mind, and guilt clung to the back of his throat like a bitter herb he could not cough up. 

He knew that one day, he may be freed of these… but for now, all he could think was of the bodies being burned and the single man he had struck down. 

“Come out of your mind, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said, and Hongjoong glanced at him, not even realizing he had been looking at him, waiting outside Hongjoong’s door. There were no guards, too occupied with recovering or aiding in repairs. 

Hongjoong lowered his eyes. “I was simply thinking…” 

Seonghwa slowly pushed the door open, using his grip on Hongjoong to lead him inside and closing the door gently. He guided Hongjoong with his hand to face him with a gentle, heavy smile. “Your mind has been a dangerous place to you, Hongjoong,” he said quietly, reaching up to touch his forehead with a warm fingertip. “I do want you to roam about it alone. Do not wade through the darkness by yourself, allowing it to consume you.” He squeezed his hand gently. “I would have you share your burdens with me…” 

Hongjoong swallowed thickly, heart swelling because somehow, even after so long, after so much, he was still as struck by Seonghwa as he was as a child. 

“I do not wish for you to hear them,” Hongjoong assured him. “I have no doubt that you would hear me, but you would not wish to be privy to the darkness in my mind. Not with everything-” 

Seonghwa’s finger on his lip silenced him. His eyes were sharp, but his tone was kind. “It is not your decision what I desire to be privy to or not,” he said. “I cannot force your tongue, Hongjoong, but I would beg you to loosen it. Can you deny that you were suffering before, lost within your own mind without anyone to pull you from it?” 

Hongjoong remembered his mind begging him not to read the scroll. And the same mind demanding he just  _ do it. _ His body had been powerless against either. He lowered his head. 

Seonghwa’s hand was warm where it cupped Hongjoong’s cheek. “What is hurting you?” Seonghwa questioned in a whisper, lifting his chin. 

Hongjoong leaned against his hand, sighing heavily. “I did not even attempt another way,” he muttered hoarsely. “Minsoo informed me that others would fight, and I did not even try to think of an alternative choice.” 

“But you did,” Seonghwa assured him. “You did not want the men to fight. You were loathed to allow it. But tell me, Hongjoong, even now… can you imagine another way? A different path that could have saved more?” 

And that was Hongjoong’s pain: he could not. Not even now with a clear mind and so much time, he could not think of one. 

“I wish I could have done something more.” That fact did nothing to ease to guilt. 

“I know,” Seonghwa whispered. “But do not torment yourself with demands of more and more, Hongjoong. There is only so much you can do, so much you can give. You must save something for yourself.” 

He sighed, eyes closing. He was not tired. But he was weary. He had slept as if knocked unconscious from night into morning. From then, it had been endless running from one area to another- helping with wounded, aiding in getting food and water to those scattered around the palace. Hongjoong had been hopeful to gather everyone and address… well, everything. But there was no time. Even now, three days later, and they were still ensuring each dead was accounted for and identified before being buried. 

It was a day filled with watching the bodies be moved, watching blood be cleared- 

Repairs. Supplies. Comforting those who had lost friends, family… 

Hongjoong had not even a moment to gather his own thoughts, much less address these suffering people. 

Each night, he fell into bed and slept deeply until he ripped from it from either nightmares or sunlight hitting him. Seonghwa had been occupied away from him, gathering and recording the dead, the events that culminated into this whole ordeal. He worked with Yunho for hours, he spoke with everyone who had fought. Yet, somehow, he always found time each day to find Hongjoong and speak with him quietly. 

Perhaps just to update him on what was happening within his own sphere, but for Hongjoong it was enough. Truthfully, he needed moments to himself to organize his thoughts, however dark they may be. That did not mean he did not soak in Seonghwa like sunlight each time he found a few moments to be alone with him. 

Seonghwa was silent, giving him a moment to gather his thoughts, and Hongjoong eventually nodded. It did nothing to ease his burden, but it calmed his mind. 

“Whether it was a worthy cause or not, there are still men who died for me.” 

“Yes,” Seonghwa said simply, and Hongjoong waited for him to lay another gentle blanket of comfort over it, but he said nothing else. 

“And?”

“And what?” 

Hongjoong frowned. “What of it? The men dying?” 

Seonghwa blinked softly. “You stated a fact, Hongjoong. Despite the worthiness of the cause, despite their willingness, there are men who died. And that is a tragedy. It is horrible and painful to think that we sat to the side while they died. I mourn and regret that every moment. But it is a fact that I cannot comfort you on, because no matter what I say, there are still fifty men dead.” 

And somehow… the thought did not send Hongjoong spiraling into a cycle of hopelessness. He was silent, and found a weight lifted from his chest at the thought that he was not wrong for feelings this way. He was not simply allowing a blanket of darkness to cover him. He was justified. He was valid. 

Seonghwa felt the same. 

Hongjoong lifted a hand, clasping the wrist of the hand against his cheek. “What have you to do this evening?” 

Seonghwa sighed, as if put upon, but his expression was just as serious as he was. “I planned to meet with Yunho about the number of wounded. And then I wanted to examine the libraries and my chambers to ensure nothing was lost.” 

He spoke lightly, but Hongjoong could see apprehension in his eyes. “Whatever may have been damaged, we will replace it,” he assured him. Truly, the least of Seonghwa’s worries was the loss of books, but it was still placed as a worry. 

Seonghwa shook his head, though, firm. “They are merely objects. They mean nothing. I simply wish to see.” Hongjoong knew all that information stored meant more to Seonghwa than that. But truly, compared to everything else, it was small enough to be set aside for now. Seonghwa swallowed, hesitating. “I passed by Yeosang earlier…” 

“Has he still not woken?” Hongjoong questioned, wincing as Seonghwa did not meet his eyes. 

Seonghwa shook his head. “Wooyoung has not left him. Yunho, at least, is grateful for the conscious company.” He lowered his hand from Hongjoong’s cheek slowly. “I am beginning to worry,” he admitted quietly. 

And Hongjoong, shoving aside his own guilt and darkness, leapt at the small admission. “For?” he questioned. Seonghwa bore everything silently, despite the same guilt clenching his mind. Even after allowing himself to stop standing stoically, he would push aside his own concerns to cater to Hongjoong’s. Hongjoong would gladly set aside his own worries to aid Seonghwa’s. 

“Yunho said he may not wake for some time,” Seonghwa whispered. “But it is nearly four days, Hongjoong… What if he-” Seonghwa stopped himself, swallowing. “I fear he may not wake.” 

Hongjoong grasped Seonghwa’s hand. “We have to believe he will,” he said firmly. “Yunho has said his condition has not worsened. Therefore, we must hope it will happen soon.” 

Seonghwa nodded slowly, head lowering until their foreheads rested against each other. Hongjoong rested a gently hand on his jaw, expression crestfallen. “What else?” he prompted carefully. “Share your burdens with me as well.” And he hated how easy it was for him to try and hide his own darkness away, but want so desperately to aid Seonghwa in carrying his own. The hypocrite it made him disgusted him. 

Seonghwa lifted a hand, lacing his fingers through Hongjoong’s free hand. “I meant what I said,” he whispered darkly. “About Hwang… And allowing you to kill him.” 

_ But, unfortunately, I am unable to take the burden from him. So I will have to live with hating myself.  _

Seonghwa swallowed thickly. “I wanted out of the cell more than I had the entire night. I did not want to allow you to kill him. I wanted to spare you that responsibility.” 

Hongjoong felt numb, like his fingers had fallen asleep. “It was the only way. Who else could have done it?” 

“Does it sound as though I care?” Seonghwa sighed. “I desired to protect you from that. I hate that I could not tell you to wait, to not kill him, to save yourself-” He shook his head sharply. “Do not mourn him, Hongjoong,” he begged. “He was a man, a human being, but do not spare him a thought. So many good men died… so many better men… do not waste your mind on him, please.” 

And maybe Hongjoong closed his eyes sometimes and saw his dead body. Perhaps he forcibly did not think of him to avoid the risk of feeling guilt. If he thought of it, he was sure, he would feel regret. But, in the moment, he had other things he was trying to focus on. 

(Even if he did hear blood roaring in his ears and see red splattering when he closed his eyes.) 

“It is not your fault,” Hongjoong said firmly. “I could have spared myself. It is not your duty to shield me.” 

“It is not  _ duty _ , Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said quickly. “And you are a fool if you would ever call it that.” 

Hongjoong threaded his fingers through the strands of hair at the back of Seonghwa’s head. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I did not mean it as that. I simply want you to believe that you have no need to blame yourself. No more than I should blame myself for actually killing him.” 

It felt heavy on his tongue, the admissions that he had taken a life. He shoved them away, focusing only on Seonghwa breathing against him. 

“I must go finish my tasks,” Seonghwa said instead of addressing Hongjoong’s whispers, pulling away slowly. 

They were useless words, Hongjoong knew. As useless as Seonghwa’s reassurances to him. But they did not speak to each other to fix and heal. They spoke to be near. To reassure that they were not alone. They spoke to soothe, but not to stop the pain. And perhaps it did not work completely. Perhaps they were still aching. 

But it was all they could do. So it was enough. Or at least, all they could ask for. 

 

~~~~~

 

Silence. 

Yeosang opened his eyes. 

Closed them. 

Opened them. 

Frowned.  

His body ached in a way he had not experienced since he left his home. He swallowed, his throat crackling, and blinked slowly, disoriented from the darkness. 

He was laying down. It was soft. He could see dim light casted around the room, flickering with a candle’s flame. He tried to lift his arm, to pull the blankets from himself, but jerked to a stop, hissing sharply as his shoulder felt like a knife was- 

_ Hwang _ . 

His heart leapt to his throat as his breath stalled. His master, the king,  _ Wooyoung-  _

Yeosang had no energy to sit up, but he tried to turn, tried to search for them. Where was he? Where were they? What did Hwang- 

“Yeosang.” Gentle hands grabbed his shoulder and held him in place. “Yeosang, look at me-” 

His head jerked to face to voice, and Wooyoung stared down at him, smiling gently even as his cheeks were damp. “Hey,” he said gently, still holding Yeosang still. “Don’t move, you will make it worse.” 

_ Make it worse _ ? Everything already ached. 

He opened his mouth, tried to demand what had happened-  _ Hwang threw the spear at the king-  _ but his throat and mouth were dry, and he suddenly felt like his limbs weighed more than a hundred books he carried. 

“Calm down,” Wooyoung whispered, petting his hair gently. “You’re safe, Yeosang. Everyone is safe.” Yeosang managed a creaky noise in the back of his parched throat, and Wooyoung nodded. “Let me fetch you some water,” he said, pulling away. 

Yeosang wanted to hold him back, to stop him from leaving him, but he felt so  _ tired _ . Like something was sapping all the energy he could muster.  Helpless to stop it, Wooyoung left his vision, and the events that blurred within his mind sudden crashed down upon him. 

He had been stabbed. 

Breathing perhaps a little quicker than before, he shifted his head, staring at his left shoulder that was bound so tightly in bandages, he couldn’t move it. His left arm rested within a cloth tied around his neck, laying against his stomach in a sling. 

Just as panic was beginning to settle, Wooyoung appeared, a cup of water in hand. Yeosang tried to shift towards him. “Don’t move,” he ordered gently, stilling him with a hand on his chest. “Let me help you drink.” 

Yeosang remembered, once, when he was a child, he had been beaten until he could not move. His mother had needed to lift his head for him to allow him to drink. 

Yeosang didn’t know why the memory was brought forward, but he shoved it back as Wooyoung tilted the water into his mouth. Even lifting his head cause his shoulder to throb, and he winced in pain, causing Wooyoung to lay him back down. 

Why was he so  _ tired _ ? 

“You’ve been unconscious for a little more than four days,” Wooyoung said heavily, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing Yeosang’s hair from his face with a strangely gentle countenance. 

Four days… 

“The king?” Yeosang rasped, wincing at the sound of his own voice. “My master?” 

“Both completely well,” Wooyoung promised. “The head scholar has come by to see you each day. They both of have been caught up in repairs and other castle politics.” 

Yeosang’s eyes widened. “We… won?” 

Wooyoung nodded, smiling brightly, though it was small. “We did.”

Yeosang’s stomach dropped. “What of Hwang?” he demanded as vehemently as he could. “Did he run?”

Wooyoung pressed his lips together, averting his eyes. “No… he…” 

The king. A pitchfork. Dead. 

Yeosang was silent. He had grown up around so much anger and violence and death. Once, he had been immune to it. Even for someone as close to him as his father. But he soon found loss painful once more, when he was faced with it. There was fear again, guilt again, sadness again. 

Hwang’s name fell from Wooyoung’s lips as someone who was dead… 

And Yeosang felt nothing. And that scared him. He did not want to return to being indifferent. Hwang, as vile as he was, was a human. A man. The king killed him… for harming Yeosang. 

Had Yeosang ever seen something like that? One killing another… for the sake of someone else? Death was something delivered for personal gain. It was a tool to someone feel better, to gain revenge for themselves. 

But killed someone… for someone else’s sake…. 

Yeosang felt nothing. But perhaps he was too tired. The words sank into his skin, and he was sure he would feel them later, but for now, he was numb. 

“I will explain it all to you at a later time,” Wooyoung said quickly, smoothing his hair comfortingly. “For now… how do you feel?” 

Hwang was shoved from his mind, focusing only on Wooyoung watching him with gentle concern. Yeosang swallowed, glancing down at himself. He could see nothing but his upper body, but his eyes were glued to the arm pressed to his own chest. 

He remembered the spear flying… the king moved… and then nothing. 

“I am tired,” he admitted, even the tax of speaking almost too great. “And my shoulder aches.” 

Wooyoung nodded. “The fatigue should fade soon,” he promised. “Yunho said it is a result of losing so much blood.” Wooyoung’s face was a carefully controlled calm. “As for the ache…” He cleared his throat. “The spear pierced your shoulder. It did not touch the join, thankfully… but Yunho says there are many… important things within your shoulder that were damaged from it.” 

Perhaps if Yeosang were not so tired, he would feel more fear. But he simply stared at Wooyoung who toyed with the edge of the blankets, waiting for him to speak more. 

“It is healing,” Wooyoung reassured him - or perhaps himself. “But… It is possible you will have difficulty with operating it.” 

Yeosang blinked. Difficulty operating it. What did that entail? He flexed his fingers against his chest. His shoulder twinged in time, and he bit back a sharp curse, stopping the movement. He lay limp for a moment. 

“That is for a later time,” Wooyoung said quickly, looking with a forced smile. “We cannot know how it will heal, so we should not dwell on it for now.” 

Yeosang was too tired to think on his own injury and detriment, so he nodded. “You… have been here the whole time?” 

Wooyoung’s smile wavered. “Yes, save for when Yunho sends me to get him something. I did not want to leave you, in case you woke. I did not want you to be alone.” 

_ “You can leave,” Wooyoung said, glancing over his shoulder as he laid another bale of hay against the wall. “It is already dark, they will wonder where you are. I am almost finished.”  _

_ Yeosang shook his head, book resting in his lap as he watched Wooyoung work. “I do not want to leave you alone out here while it is dark.”  _

_ Wooyoung snorted, turning away to hide the softened expression. “Well, I am usually done much earlier, before it gets dark.”  _

_ “Perhaps you should work harder,” Yeosang teased, hiding a small smile.  _

_ Wooyoung turned with an offended mouth open. “The only reason I am not finished is because you distracted me!”  _

_ “As I recall, it was you who grabbed me and pinned me to the wall,” Yeosang said calmly.  _

_ “But it was you that kept- doing-  _ things _!” He struggled for words, and Yeosang laughed.  _

_ “Things?” he chuckled. “I was simply sitting and reading to you as you worked.”  _

_ “You kept licking your lips! And fixing your hair!”  _

_ “Gods, Wooyoung, truly I am an incubus with my dry lips and unkempt hair.”  _

_ “You are!” Wooyoung said firmly, turning away. “And because of you, it is already dark and I still have work to do.”  _

_ Yeosang chuckled warmly. “Yes, but because of me, you will not have to do so alone. Now, hurry so we may walk back together.”  _

“I was… frightened for you,” Wooyoung admitted quietly, his arm reaching across Yeosang to hold his non-injured hand with fingers that were too weak for a stable boy. “It was… You were very severely injured, Yeosang. And you were unconscious for a very long time. We were beginning to wonder… if you would not wake.” 

Yeosang flipped his good hand with great difficulty, until he was holding Wooyoung’s fingers (“hold” being a strong word for “rested against them”). “Come here,” he whispered, trying to pull his hand. “Stand up.” 

Wooyoung frowned, but obeyed, and Yeosang tugged weakly. Wooyoung followed the movement, confused but not fighting him as he bend over Yeosang’s body. Yeosang slid his arm from Wooyoung’s hand, up to his shoulder and pulled. 

Wooyoung braced his hands on either side of Yeosang. “Yeosang, I do not want to hurt you-” 

“Then be careful,” he whispered, guiding him down until his head rest like a feather’s weight against his good shoulder. Yeosang threaded his fingers through the hair at the base of his skull, holding him as best he could. Wooyoung tucked one arm near Yeosang, as close to embracing one another as they could get. 

“I am sorry,” Wooyoung whispered against his collarbone. “I should never have left you. I went with you to ensure you were safe, and I-” 

Yeosang hushed him firmly, closing his eyes against the gentle, warm weight against him. “Your guilt will not make me heal faster.” 

“Yeosang-” 

“Later,” Yeosang requested. “Just be glad it is over.” Wooyoung rested more heavily against him, making it slightly harder to breathe. 

Is was over, right? If they won the battle... Then he and Wooyoung… and his master and the king? They were… safe? 

“Very well,” Wooyoung sighed, massaging Yeosang’s arm gently. “Am I crushing you?” 

Yeosang chuckled weakly. “Yes. But do not move.” Wooyoung laughed against him, but lifted himself slightly anyway. 

“I am glad you are safe,” Yeosang murmured. His chest was heavy, and he needed to be informed on all that had happened. But for now, he would live in ignorance that they were safe, that they were out of the woods. That he could stay here with Wooyoung. That his arm would heal and he they would  _ be okay _ . 

They would be okay. 

 

~~~~~

 

The Royal Hall was packed. 

On either side of the aisle, the remaining guards and servants of his castle stood, bandaged but alive, their faces grim and concerned. 

In the middle of the aisle, seventeen remaining villagers gathered. They stood close together, as if aware of their dwindled numbers. Minsoo stood at the front, his leg bound and bandaged, his brow furrowed in dark concern. 

Hongjoong felt as if he might fall through the floor as he stood at his throne. He felt like he was in a trance. Everyone watched him. His eyes traced over San and Jongho, pushing each other and whispering quickly, probably speculating what Hongjoong would say. Mingi stood with the remaining guards, his head bandaged. Yunho was beside him, sober expression hopeful. 

Yeosang leaned heavily against Wooyoung, his arm slung against his chest and his skin pale, but miles better than he had been the day before when he even tried to sit up. Wooyoung supported most of his weight, looking scared. They knew what Hongjoong’s plan was, but that did not mean they knew whether it would be accepted. 

Hongjoong took a deep breath that shook. 

A gentle touch drew his attention, and he looked at Seonghwa beside him who nodded encouragingly. No one of their audience had stormed onto the throne to tear the scholar down yet, so Hongjoong allowed a flicker of hope in his chest. 

“I…” Hongjoong folded his hands before himself, the Hall watching. “I spent a good amount of time last night… attempting to write out what it was I wanted to say to the people gathered here.” He cleared his throat roughly. “However… everything felt too weak and vapid compared to what I truly felt.” 

He glanced up. Minsoo inclined his head gratefully. 

“There are no words on this earth that I could hope to string together to encompass how grateful and indebted I am… to all of you.” He lowered his eyes. “Also to encompass… how deeply the loss we have suffered has hurt me. And I understand if it angers you to hear that from someone who simply sat by as lives were lost… but it is true nonetheless. I cannot describe the guilt that weighs on my nights and days, knowing that my selfish actions cause this battle for people who should never have been involved with my mistakes.” He cleared his throat. “I would like to ask for a moment of silence... For those that aided us and lost their lives.” 

Silence fell. Heads bowed. Hongjoong felt his heart prickle with guilt. But when he lifted his head and called the others to do the same, he looked around. 

He glanced at Seonghwa who watched him with shining eyes, heavy but bright with _ pride _ . 

Hongjoong felt comfort in knowing he was beside him. It allowed him to keep speaking.  He resisted the urge to take his hand. 

“However,” he continued on, voice gaining some strength, even as it remained level, “I do not revoke my decision.” He swallowed as everyone watched, not giving him even a hint to know what they were thinking. “I will continue to keep the law changed. Because… as much as if may seem irresponsible, I cannot force myself and others to live in agony.”

“What would you know of living in agony?” A villager called. 

Several people around them hushed him angrily, and Hongjoong’s fingers curled at his side defensively. “He is right,” he said, and the villagers quieted their urges for silence. “I was born a prince. I know nothing of what it is to be starved, to be taxed to nothing, to watch the people around you starve while you yourself are dying…But I know what it is to be helpless. I know what it is to be a slave to my position. I know what it is to be told I was the most powerful man on this earth, that I could do anything, that the tides themselves would bend to my will… but the moment I tried to extend that power to someone I cared for… my power was stripped from me.” 

The crowd whispered to themselves. The servants murmured in each other’s ears, watching him with wary gazes. 

He lifted his head high. “There once was a prince,” he said carefully, choosing each word like it were worth gold. “A prince who was set to be king. And one day, in preparation for that, he was given a tutor by way of the head scholar’s apprentice.” 

He heard Seonghwa chuckle silently beside him. 

“And despite every law and tradition that forbade, despite how he tried to remove the sensation, the prince’s heart was powerless against someone so wondrous. And slowly… after weeks and months of tutoring… the prince realized he had lost his mind and fallen for a lowly scholar’s apprentice.” He swallowed thickly at the memories washing over him. “How could he be so stupid? He could have an entire nation of noblemen and women at his feet, he could choose any wealthy person of good standing he desired… And he chose a nobody scholar?” He gazed out on the hall. “I do not know how many people here have someone they love… but I think I can call on you to understand that once you are in, there is no possible way to get out.” 

A faint chuckle from one villager who elbowed the man beside him, grinning suggestively. The man swatted at him and demanded he pay attention. 

“And I was… I was young, I will admit. But I stopped fighting it. I allowed the current of a single, common boy to sweep me along, and I never looked back. I was a king. I had everything I could possibly want. I could snap my fingers and gain anything I desired. However, everything paled compared to him. Everything seemed useless, worthless if I could not give myself to him. And… ironically, he was the one thing I could not have. Could  _ never  _ have.” 

He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “And for  _ what _ ?” he posed. “A law that stated this man was beneath me. I  _ laughed  _ at that thought. Beneath me? Had no one seen this man? Had no one seen his brilliant mind? His beautiful soul that shone like the sun? His kind, gentle heart? His peaceful nature? This man, who was worth ten of a stupid prince… and simply because he had not come from a noble house… I was somehow supposed to be his better.” 

Hongjoong had to laugh, the thought so utterly ridiculous even in the somber atmosphere. “Did it stop us? No. No, we felt too much. We could never leave each other, now that we had come together. We refused. And for four years, until the death of my father, we met in secret, constantly aware of the risk we played. And then… my father died. And I became king. And I was suddenly face with how utterly worthless I was going to be. My knowledge was limited, my wisdom was nonexistent, my plan… I had none. But what I did have… was a man who stood with me. A brilliant, unbelievable man who took on my foolishness and guided me.” 

He tilted a hand towards Seonghwa without looking towards him. “Do any of you realize how far this kingdom would have burned, if not for this man? A man I was told was worthless compared to me.” 

Hongjoong swallowed, holding his own hands to stop their trembling. “My point among all these dramatics… is that I have experienced for nearly a decade that a person’s worth means nothing in relation to their station. I, a noble, am a complete fool. And a scholar, a commoner, is the only reason I did not run from my responsibilities long ago. Station in life, while the basis for much, indicates nothing of one’s worth. Look at  _ you _ ,” he urged, gesturing around the room. “Villagers. Servants. People of the lowest class. And yet, you stood loyal to your king when the nobles among me turned. You fought more bravely than royal soldiers!” 

They murmured to themselves. The hall was quiet, but filled with the buzz of quiet speech. Hongjoong’s stomach twisted the longer he stood in silence. 

“Understand this,” he said firmly, lifting his head and spreading his hands. Of this, he was sure, regardless of what the people in this court felt. “I did not change this law for my own convenience. I did not change it for the one I love. Rather, it was because of the one I loved that I realized the law needed to be changed. I was taught to see the worth of someone who could never be considered noble- but he was more noble and wise than any man of high birth.” 

His eyes trailed Wooyoung and Yeosang, leaning against each other. “There are others,” he assured them. “People I have seen, forced into secret for no reason other than choosing to be with one outside their class. I do not wish for others to feel the pain I did, forced apart from someone I loved for obsolete reasons.” 

Yeosang smiled at him gently, pale and injured  _ because of Hongjoong _ , but he smiled at him. 

“I plan to keep the change I made in place,” Hongjoong explained to the hall. “However, I would like to understand where I might stand among those of you who fought. Free from all consequence, I would ask… if you hold issue with the change I have put into place, please, say so now.” 

He didn’t dare breathe. Hongjoong’s entire body trembled as he scanned the people. Villagers looked around, waiting for someone to speak. Servants glanced at each other curiously. Guards lifted their eyebrows in question to each other. 

No one spoke. 

“If love is a crime…” Hongjoong’s eyes snapped to Minsoo at the front, staring at him with misty eyes, “then I believe that Your Highness would be the most guilty. I told you before, Your Grace… You are a good king. The villages have flourished under you, as much as we have been allowed. We would be horrible human beings, indeed, if we demanded you give up what you have worked so hard for.” 

“It  _ is _ strange,” a villager beside him called. “The thought that you would allow someone such as yourself to lay with someone like the head scholar. Or that others of your status would lay outside their own class. Was it truly necessary to change an entire law for it, though?”

Hongjoong opened his mouth, preparing to say something, to bring up that it did not matter how many, as long as there was one, but a voice cut him off. 

“It is more common than you think.” Hongjoong looked to Yeosang who spoke as loud as he could. Sharp, tired eyes glanced at Wooyoung who looked at Hongjoong and nodded. Yeosang turned back to the man. “Your heart does not see class. Have you someone you love, sir?” 

The villager stood straighter, defensive. “I do.” 

“Would you scorn them simply because they were of a higher class? Would they scorn you, simply because you were of a lower one? Is your love so superficial?” 

Hongjoong saw Wooyoung squeeze Yeosang’s side, perhaps to rein him in, but Yeosang continued. “You say ‘lay with another’ as if all any of us are doing is seeking physical pleasure in another, but you are wrong. The law does not prohibit physical contact, it prohibits  _ intimate relations _ . Yes, that includes physical aspects, but it forbids them from even intimate relations of their hearts, their souls- the law says that anyone who  _ feels  _ anything for another outside their sphere is to be disgraced. Love is feeling. Is love a crime, simply because one stand higher than the other? Would you look at two people, risking everything to be with each other in secret, and claim them to only be seeking physical release? That can be found in any whorehouse or willing party of your own class. Surely, you can see that the risk involved means that there is  _ something  _ more.” 

Yeosang stared at the man. Did not look away. The villager broke contact, lowering his eyes. “I was simply stating that it was strange. I didn’t mean to imply anything.” 

“Strange does not make it ugly,” Wooyoung assured him, and Hongjoong felt his heart swell as the two of them spoke. He glanced and saw Seonghwa watching with glowing eyes. “Yes, it is strange. It is what we are taught is wrong. But I will pose you a single question that I beg you to consider:  _ Why  _ is it wrong?” 

The hall was silent. 

“Because one is higher than the other?” Wooyoung demanded. “The king has outlined exactly why that is false. To preserve bloodlines? Is there truly anything about these people that make it seem as if a bloodline would be  _ soiled _ ? Would it not be bettered to be carried by love, rather than a forced hand from a nobleman? So, I ask you, why is it  _ wrong _ ?” 

The hall was silent. 

Hongjoong cleared his throat gently, and everyone turned to him. He gave a weak smile to Yeosang and Wooyoung before addressing the room. “I stand by my statement. Worth is not correlated with blood. And if you require proof, you need only see my next offer- Those of you who fought for me… I have lost every member of my council, many of my advisors and ambassadors… and I would be indebted to any one of you who would agree to be gained into my court.” 

The villagers balked. “Us?” one of them demanded. “As in, you would make us councilors?” 

“If you are willing,” Hongjoong assured them. “I have discussed it at great length with my remaining advisors-” He gestured to Seonghwa at his side- “and we have concluded that what better council or advice could we gain than from those directly in contact with the villages we reign over?” 

The quiet whispers burst into full voice as people demanded to know if they had heard correctly. 

Hongjoong could not help the upturn of his lips, glancing at Seonghwa who watched him with a similar countenance. Hongjoong held a careful hand out. 

Seonghwa spared only a glance to the people before them, before taking his hand gently. 

They stood- a scholar and a king- before their court, their hands intertwined and eyes meeting as if they were alone. 

“Your Highness,” Minsoo said quickly, eyes wide. Hongjoong turned to him, reaffirming his hold when Seonghwa’s loosened to pull away. “Does this not seem like something that might spark a feeling of anarchy?” 

Hongjoong took a breath, considering it. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “But I would like to be optimistic and think that others may also come to see it for what it is: an attempt at bridging gaps. Has the rest of the country not also suffered because of the council I kept before? Would they not also be glad to influence their own fates? I have to believe so.” 

Minsoo hesitated, but looked at the people around him. “Perhaps… perhaps Your Highness may be correct in thinking so.” He turned back to him with a confident smile. “We will help ease the idea in whatever way High Majesty requires.” 

Hongjoong had forgotten what this was: loyalty. After so long of having only Seonghwa to stand beside him... and then Yeosang with the others… and now his people. People he had fought for, people who had fought for him… fighting for each other… 

It was a beautiful feeling that ignited in his chest.

For once, hope did not flutter and flicker within him. It beat within his chest like a mallet striking a drum, thrumming through his entire body and shaking him to his core until he could not breathe. Hope was finally thriving within his chest and it made him want to burst into ridiculous tears that would likely make the villagers change their minds. 

Seonghwa squeezed his hand, and Hongjoong wanted to kiss him. To show all these people what they had given him, but he restrained himself, thinking that perhaps a bit excessive for how new the concept was. 

But Seonghwa stared at him, an expression Hongjoong had never seen on him before. Perhaps because they had never been free before. Was this what Seonghwa looked like when he was set free? He was glowing, whatever it was. 

“Is it over yet?” Hongjoong whispered, smiling like a fool. 

Seonghwa chuckled gently, shaking his head. “Not quite yet,” he said regretfully. “But soon.” 

 

~~~~~

 

Hongjoong sent out notices with the villagers. 

First, an explanation of the events. Second, a call for recruits for  palace guards and staff. And third, a notice for village leaders to report to the castle if they wished to be considered for the king’s new court. 

And it was days of taking people in, getting them situated in their roles, speaking with each potential council member carefully (with Seonghwa beside him as he did) (only a few were rejected due to their seemingly violent desire for their village specifically to receive first rights for their decisions). 

Hongjoong stole quiet moments in between, sitting in his chambers or in some dark corner somewhere, and nursed his heavy heart, the anxiety within in his chest. 

What if everything just fell apart anyway? 

Seonghwa always found him just in time. Smiling, taking his hand, leading him from the confines of his chambers or the darkness of an empty room, and say they should go see Wooyoung or Yeosang. Suggest that they examine something within the library. Recommend that they take a quick walk in the garden before they needed to meet with yet another village leader. 

It wasn’t perfect. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa were free. And Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to drag Seonghwa to his chambers, to sleep in his embrace, to finally take advantage of what he fought for- 

But they could not. They had duties. Responsibilities. Hongjoong would never have the strength to return to his work if he was faced with Seonghwa beside him intimately. They satisfied themselves with weak kisses good night and hands brushing as they passed in the hall on the way to their respective duties. 

It was far from perfect. 

Hongjoong stressed and worried and tugged at his hair in fear that he was making a mistake. And Seonghwa shared his stressors and worries and guided his hands away from his hair with only a simple statement of “I understand.” 

It was not perfect. 

Hongjoong needed Seonghwa’s mind beside him in their rebuilding. And that meant Yeosang was suddenly thrust into position as head scholar. He was ready, Seonghwa assured him with pride in his eyes as he rested a hand on his good shoulder. Yeosang, still recovering and easily fatigued, took on the task with as much gusto as he was able, being found speaking quietly with Wooyoung much more often. 

It was not perfect. 

Yeosang flexed his hand, but could not move his shoulder. Wooyoung tried not to show how much it pained him, and Yeosang acted as if it were not that bad, but they could see the fear in his eyes for what it might mean in the long term. He was sure the two of them were caring for each other, nursing the others wounds and guilt. But both were scarred. Hongjoong could never bear to be around them for long, guilt closing his throat. 

It was not perfect. 

Villagers clashed and needed to be taught about what it was they needed to do. Guards were being trained, most of them incredibly young and keeping Yunho busy with their bruises they gathered like medals. They tried to build back up as quickly as possible, to ward off any outside kingdom that might notice their weakness. But it was slow and painful. 

It was not perfect. 

The issues of the villages did not stop just because their council was inexperienced. The problems and scuffles and fear from the still-holding drought continued to pour in, giving them no time to breathe as those who did understand (him, Seonghwa, and a few others) took most of the burden, to allow the others to watch and learn. 

It was not perfect. 

But over a month had passed… and it was still standing. A month since that night and they had yet to collapse. None of the trainees had killed another. The villagers had not caused any wars. Yeosang could use his hand to hold something (weakly) within its sling. They were moving  _ forward _ . 

It was not perfect. But it was progress. 

 

~~~~~

 

Yeosang sat at the the desk, turning a page carefully. 

“Would you grab me the next edition? This one does not go back far enough,” he said, glancing up. 

The apprentice nodded- a boy no older than ten, but whose mother was adamant that he could learn anything they desired him to. Yeosang did not even have to ask the king before the boy was admitted. And, as promised, Hyungson was willing and ready to learn the organization system of the library, disappearing for only a few moments before returning with the desired text. 

Yeosang took it with one hand, still automatically going to reach with two hands, but the twinge in his shoulder stopped him, causing him to almost drop the book. He set it down, sighing gently in only vague frustration compared to the tear-inducing anger it brought weeks earlier. 

It was not so horrible, the sling. It kept his shoulder from moving, according to Yunho, but still allowed him to use his hand to hold (with difficulty and concentration) lightweight things. Like brushes. And not much else yet. 

More soon, Yunho promised him. Just be patient. 

A gentle knock sounded at the door, and Yeosang called for them to enter, focused on searching for the proper date. 

“Will you beckon me to enter like I was a common servant?” An amused voice asked. 

Yeosang looked up sharply at Wooyoung stepping inside, smiling with tired eyes. “What are you doing here?” he questioned, waving a gentle hand at Hyungson to dismiss him. The boy bowed readily, exiting deeper into the shelves. “Do you not have servants to turn into stable hands?” 

Wooyoung chuckled, walking around and leaning against the edge of Yeosang’s desk, grinning down at him. “Husbandry is not as complicated as some would believe. Some of the more senior hands are showing them how to groom. I slipped away.” 

Yeosang cocked an eyebrow. “Slipped away? For what purpose?” 

Wooyoung leaned forward, smirking. “I would give you three guesses, but I am impatient.” 

He chuckled, leaning up until their lips brushed. “I think I could guess it in one.” 

Wooyoung slipped a hand behind his head. “You always were rather clever,” he noted quietly, slotting their lips together. 

And God, Yeosang didn’t know how he would have kept his sanity if not for Wooyoung. Certainly, at the beginning, Wooyoung was afraid to even touch Yeosang for fear of hurting him, but with time he became accustomed to what hurt and what did not. And gods, just in time, because every other person in the place treated Yeosang as if it were his legs or mind that were harmed, not his shoulder. 

While the others around the palace carried things for him and demanded he rest, Wooyoung simply asked him if he needed something to be carried, and left him alone if he said no. Yeosang had no interest in being in pain, he would not lie just to save face. Wooyoung treated him normally, as if nothing had happened, save for perhaps being a bit gentler when they were a bit more intimate, careful not to push too hard, but following Yeosang when he urged him on more. 

Wooyoung braced a hand on his uninjured shoulder, steadying himself as Yeosang craned his neck up to meet him. There was a certain…. urge to cry, each time Wooyoung kissed him now. Something selling behind his eyes and closing his throat. It was relief, the most intense kind because they were  _ alive _ . But it was peppered with fear of what could have been lost- not just among themselves but  _ everyone _ . Spotted with a slight desperation that Wooyoung could not quite shake, even weeks later, to touch and hold and ensure that Yeosang was here and breathing and warm. 

Yeosang could not help but wonder if this is how his master felt when he and the king were discovered...

But they were good. They were content. 

Yeosang shifted forward slightly, pressing closer, and gasped quietly as he put too much strain on his shoulder to do so. 

Wooyoung pulled away, only far enough to see, gaze questioning but still holding that fear of something being worse. Yeosang shook his head quickly, hand coming up to hold his shoulder gently. “Fine,” he assured him, the sting already fading to a dull ache. “I just moved it.” 

Wooyoung nodded, relieved. “Yunho is supposed to look at it again in a few days, is he not?” 

Yeosang inclined his head, flexing his hand carefully. “There is probably little hope of regaining full movement,” he said, more to accustom himself to hearing it than informing Wooyoung. “But he thinks the pain will fade with time.”

Wooyoung’s eyes were heavy, as they tended to be when it brought up. But he said nothing, simply hummed and traced a gentle finger along Yeosang’s cheek and jaw, eyes following the movement. 

“I think…” Yeosang shook his head, deciding against it. “No, that would be too poetic.”

“What?” Wooyoung questioned, lifting an eyebrow; and just like that, there was a hint of mirth returning to his eyes, trying to combat the sadness. “I told you, one of my favorite things is listening to you speak poetics.” 

Yeosang laughed, short and sharp, looking at him incredulously. “Your favorite thing to do is watch my mouth as I speak poetics.”

Wooyoung shrugged, smiling. “What difference is there, truly?”

Yeosang shook his head again, looking away and sobering, but his smile and mood did not fade. “I simply think… I was likening my shoulder healing with time… with everything else perhaps healing with time.”

Yeosang often found himself with a heavy heart. Hwang was dead. But so were so many others. And he felt like he was being torn in two, wondering who he should mourn and who he should celebrate, if anyone. Yeosang did not mourn Hwang nor the men who died with him. 

But he did mourn their sad, angry lives that poisoned them to the point of rebelling against a king who truly was the best that could rule this kingdom. 

Wooyoung was quiet, but he nodded slowly. “I think it will,” he said, thoughtful. “You said that when you first arrived at the palace, you were hurt, weren’t you? You were angry and bitter, right?”

Yeosang nodded. While he followed his mother’s  pleas eventually, it was not as easy as he imagined when he was faced with these people living in comfort yet who still fought and hated- more than those living and fighting for nothing. 

Wooyoung traced his cheek gently. “But you healed. You were able to become who you are today. And it may take years, but…. I see no reason why it cannot happen again.” 

Yeosang sighed, leaning against Wooyoung’s hand slightly. He chuckled gently, thumb stroking Yeosang’s cheek. Yeosang soaked in that optimism, the small bubble of warmth surrounding them. 

Things may be horrible, but in moments like this, Yeosang could truly be hopeful that it was not so bad. And things were better than they were. But there was a long, uphill battle they were facing. But…

“I am glad to have met you,” Yeosang murmured, turning to kiss the palm of Wooyoung’s hand. “I think my life would have been sad and barren, indeed, had I not had you with me.”

Wooyoung laughed quietly, leaning forward and kissing his forehead. “Yeosang, only a fool could ever believe that it was I who bettered you. You would have flourished even had we not met, because that is who you are.” 

But Yeosang shook his head, smiling warmly. Truly, Wooyoung knew nothing if that it what he thought. “I would not be here,” he promised him. “I was not miserable in my work here, but this passed year has been the best of my life- apprentice or not. I am happy with you, Wooyoung. I thought I would love my life only able to be content, but I am  _ happy _ .” He lifted his eyes to Wooyoung, slightly misty. “You gave me reasons to remain. You were beside me as I struggled. And for that, I would not trade a single thing that has happened to us, knowing that it would all culminate into where we are today.”

Wooyoung stared, looking ready to refute it, but it seemed his tongue was dead in his mouth. He lowered his head, chuckling. “Poetics,” he murmured quietly before lifting his eyes. “You make me out to be some hero, as if falling in love with you were not the easiest thing a man could ever do.” 

Yeosang kissed him. His heart swelled in his chest as Wooyoung laughed against his lips, biting at them gently.  “This made it easy too,” he added, and Yeosang rolled his eyes. 

“What is your fascination with my lips?” He demanded, chest light and floating away. 

“They are a dangerous weapon,” Wooyoung told him, capturing them quickly. “I would be more inclined to follow their orders than if I were at sword point.” 

Yeosang sighed, resisting another roll of his eyes. How could he allow himself to fall for this man?  “Then follow these orders: stop talking.”

Wooyoung grinned, and it was almost like before, it was almost completely unburdened. But  Yeosang could still see the strain around his eyes and deep in his smile, but that was fine. 

They would never go back to before. 

Wooyoung and Yeosang has changed. Forever. And it wasn’t bad, necessarily, but it was different. A jarring, violent experience after being stagnant for so long. 

Wooyoung followed his command and stopped speaking, filling the silence with drawing out little noises from Yeosang as he pressed against him, grinning against his lips so broadly, they could scarcely kiss. 

They would never be the same. 

But they would remain together. They did not fall for each other because of their easy relationship. Yeosang would rather no one else to weary a storm with. 

 

~~~~~

 

Life went on. 

Hongjoong filled his days. And while his nights were lonely, he was exhausted enough to sleep through them uninterrupted (sans the occasional nightmare that had faded in intensity as time moved on). 

Waking in the morning and seeking out someone who knew what his agenda for the day had became routine. Minsoo was often one of the first he found who would deliver him a long list of meetings, appearances, and correspondences that needed to be completed, but this time, Hongjoong did not see him in the halls as he walked through them, nodding to servants who bowed as he passed. 

Hongjoong found Seonghwa standing in the entrance hall. There were still slices and scars along the walls, but Hongjoong had already sent out a request for one of the village masons to come heal those wounds. 

Seonghwa was bend down slightly, telling a new servant to bring a stack of books he handed him to the library. 

“Right away, sir!” He said, turning, pausing, and turning back sheepishly. “Where is it?” 

Seonghwa explained how to get there with kind eyes and gentle words. The servant ran off, and his eyes found Hongjoong’s, shoulders dropping into a more relaxed posture. “Good morning,” he greeted, both of them stepping closer until they stood only a foot apart. “Did you sleep well?”

Hongjoong hummed, thinking to how much he had woken up the night before. “I think so,” he decided, smiling gently. “I had a nightmare, but fell back asleep.” 

Seonghwa smiled, nodding, practically luminescent  in the morning light. “I am glad you were able to rest more.” 

He hummed, hands lacing behind his back. He frowned. “Now… correct me if I am wrong, but I have only been told about a single council meeting this morning. Minsoo informed me of it yesterday.” 

Seonghwa’s quiet smile grew, though he bit it back as best he could. “Yes?” he prompted. 

“Do I not have more?”

Seonghwa looked practically giddy. “You do not. It is only a simple meeting to discuss the progress of the new irrigation systems. It should not last more than a single hour.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes widened, blinking hard. . “And we have nothing else to do for the day?” 

Seonghwa shook his head, eyes bright and suppressing a grin. “I will check in with Yeosang in the library to see how the new scholars are taking, but that will take me only moments.” 

So, they had one hour meeting in a few minutes… and then Seonghwa would spend a few minutes with Yeosang… and then… that was it? They did not need to observe and mark and record until well passed the sun’s setting? 

“Oh!” Seonghwa said quickly, smiling. “There is one more thing we have to do today.” 

Hongjoong could not stop the drop of his shoulders. Of course. He sighed, but nodded for him to continue. Seonghwa suddenly stepped forward, one arm coming around Hongjoong’s waist and pulling him flush against him, their noses brushing. 

Hongjoong sucked in a sharp breath, hands coming to rest on Seonghwa’s shoulder at their proximity. He glanced around on instinct. Simply because they could touch, did not mean they did not keep their intimacy and their work separate. Had Hongjoong even done more than hold his hand and press a quick kiss to his lips in weeks? 

But Seonghwa held him firmly, uncaring for the world around him as he leaned close enough for their lips to brush as his smile faded to a more open, raw expression. “Given our free time… I would request that you would meet me in your chambers after our respective duties…” 

Hongjoong’s heart crawled to his throat as his fingers flexed on Seonghwa’s shoulder, his chest spreading heat across his skin. 

He almost refused. 

Preparations and meetings and inspections and ensuring everything was still working- it weighed on his mind. He still needed to draft an announcement of the new council. He still needed to interview another advisor from the South. Could he allow himself to set it aside to seek a few hours of selfish alone time? 

Seonghwa pulled back slightly at his hesitation. “I did not mean-” 

And Hongjoong’s sense overrode the ever present guilt he had gotten good at ignoring, grabbing the front of Seonghwa’s robe and crashing their lips together quickly before he could move away. 

Seonghwa fell back to him instantly, pulling Hongjoong close, the heat of both their bodies mingling as Hongjoong held onto him. “Pardon my silence,” he breathed against Seonghwa’s lips. “My foolish mind was thinking of other things.” 

Seonghwa chuckled, pressing a finger to his forehead and pushing it back slightly. “It would be my pleasure to take you out of that foolish mind, for a time.” 

Months. Hongjoong has been standing beside him, unallowed to even seek the superficial touches they had before. For months. 

And finally, they had a day together. 

Ten years.

Hongjoong sighed weakly, leaning his head against Seonghwa’s shoulder. “I would like nothing more,” he breathed, his heart beating almost dangerously fast. 

Seonghwa chuckled, kissing his temple. “The meeting first, Hongjoong,” he reminded him. 

He sighed in frustration. “Did you not say it was a simple meeting? Perhaps, they do not need our presence.” 

Seonghwa embraced him tightly, squeezing some of the frustration out of him in the form of a squeak. “I give you an inch, and you desire to take mile.” 

“Well, it has been a very long time since I have had an option of even an inch,” Hongjoong murmured, leaning against the strong form against him. “I do not even know if I remember such a mile.” 

Seonghwa frowned, eyebrow cocked. “You would forget it?”

Hongjoong chuckled despite it, kissing him quickly. “Never,” he assured him. “It has haunted and blessed my dreams for years.” 

How long had it been? Three years? When was the last time? The night that guards were not stationed by his door… what was it, security that was needed for some visiting nobleman? Hongjoong had assured them that he was safe in his chambers for the night. Or was it four years? The time began to blur. But even if the timing of it all blurred, the night itself did not. 

_ “Gods, Hongjoong-“ _

_ “Shh.” _

_ Laughter.  _

_ “There,  _ yes _ -“ _

_ “Seonghwa, please, more-“ _

His grip on Seonghwa tightened. “I will wait for you,” he assured him in a whisper that was difficult to make out. “After the meeting.” 

Seonghwa chuckled. “Well, you can hardly begin without me.” 

Hongjoong sighed, pulling away and striking his chest pathetically. “You are insufferable,” he scoffed. 

“Well, I had to take some sort of action. You looked prepared to take me here in this very hall.” His eyes danced with mirth, and it was such a light conversation after weeks of politics and dreary fear. Hongjoong felt intoxicated with it as he waved Seonghwa off. “We must head to the meeting,” he reminded him. 

Hongjoong nodded, resigning himself to an hour of agony. (He pointedly did not think of after. If he thought of it, he would be useless within the meeting.) 

But within the meeting, Hongjoong almost forgot, focused wholly on the reports that Minsoo handed him. “One of the canals collapsed. They are working on building it back up, but it may put us back a few days.” 

“But the food stores will hold?” Hongjoong inquired, glancing up. 

Minsoo nodded. “We have cut down certain nonessential rations, but no one will suffer from it. They will simply have a bit blander food.” 

That, he could live with. “Ensure that they have enough workers to complete it soon enough.” He handed the scroll back, and Minsoo took it. 

“Should we take workers from those farther along in their work?” another (Yehan) asked. “The villagers in the south are nearly completed.” 

“Only if they can spare them,” Seonghwa said firmly. “We do not want to force two areas into trouble.” 

“Three villages in the south can spare them,” Minsoo assured him. “We will make arrangements.” 

They spoke more of the plans. Brought up what else could be done. And soon… 

“Are there any other points to be addressed?” Hongjoong questioned the table they sat at. None spoke up, all shaking their heads gently. He nodded. “Then I believe that concludes our meeting. Thank you all for your work.” 

He stood and everyone bowed. Hongjoong took a moment to watch them, commoners, helping him build his palace from ashes. 

They were building a strong foundation, ensuring their lives and present selves had enough to live from. They had a present to live in. 

His eyes trailed to Seonghwa who spoke quietly with Minsoo about something last minute, and his smile grew. 

They had a future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have one more chapter (and maybe an extra one for an epilogue) so I hope you’ll stick with me for that!  
> I’m already planning my next work, but I need to know which would be best: tell me in the comments, please, if you would prefer spies/espionage, vampires, or college au!  
> Thank you everyone!


	7. The Weight of Me Against You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN SMUT BEFORE I AM SORRY   
> But seriously thank you to everyone who has followed me through this story! I tend to struggle to keep up with finishing stories I haven’t pre-written but you all kept me going through it!   
> I upped the rating for this chapter because I’m not sure how far ratings will go but I changed it just to be safe!   
> I may plan to upload an epilogue for this, but I likely wouldn’t until I begin on my next work, so keep an eye out!   
> Thank you again to everyone who read and commented, you guys keep me going!  
> As always, please enjoy!

Seonghwa entered the library and found Wooyoung holding Yeosang’s good hand, playing with his fingers as the head scholar frowned at a page. 

“Next,” he said quietly. Wooyoung reached over and turned the page silently, returning to his ministrations as Yeosang read on. 

Seonghwa could not help the upturn of his lips. “I take it your research is going well.”

Both boys jumped, Wooyoung tightening his hold on Yeosang’s hand, rather than letting it go. 

Yeosang smiled, though, realizing who had entered. “Mast-“

“I am no longer your master,” Seonghwa reminded him, and Yeosang made a face similar to a child being told to eat their vegetables. Seonghwa could only chuckle, stepping in further. “How are the new apprentices taking?”

Yeosang sighed, but he quirked his lips. “They are… inexperienced. But most are willing to learn.”

Wooyoung snickered. “And those who are not are soon faced with the full wrath of the head scholar in a bad mood.”

Simply because he lost the movement of one arm did not make him an invalid. Seonghwa has heard quite a few stories of how good his aim had gotten with one hand. (He had witnessed only once Yeosang throw a brush at a boy who was writing in one of the library tomes. He still tried not to think of it and laugh.) 

“Any particulars to mention?” 

Yeosang brought up a couple with outstanding potential: picking up quickly and making his work very much easier. 

“Dohae has been a godsend,” Yeosang sighed with relief. 

Wooyoung frowned. “What about me?”

Yeosang gave him a gentle smile. “You still cannot even read enough to fetch me books.”

“That is all it is based on?” Wooyoung demanded, offended as he often was. “Ability to cater to you?”

“Yes,” Yeosang answered without hesitation. 

Wooyoung dropped his hand. “I got you that one book. The one about the sea!”

“You fetched me  _ a _ book about the sea. Not the correct one.”

“You did not say so when I gave it to you!”

“I did not want to ruin your proud moment.” 

Seonghwa’s short laughter stopped their back and forth, but he could not help it, it was something truly spectacular to watch. 

Like peering through a window into the past. 

“I do not wish to intrude any longer and interrupt your work,” Seonghwa assured them, stepping away. “I simply wanted to check your progress. But I must go, the king is expecting...me…” 

He trailed off slightly as both of them glanced at each other, smirking and looking back at him. “What?” He questioned and Wooyoung has the decency to look away, but Yeosang leaned his good elbow on the desk and grinned. 

“Well, I understand you and the king attended a council meeting this morning. But I know the king has no other scheduled events this afternoon.” His smirk grew. “I was simply curious about what he was expecting of you?”

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes at the choice of words, but Yeosang stared back fearlessly as he always did, even more unafraid after everything. What threat did Seonghwa pose now, after his arm and the battle? 

“I think you may be attempting to imply something, Yeosang.” 

“Never, Master. I know you appreciate bluntness.” 

Gods, Yeosang was having fun with this. But Seonghwa hummed. “Well, the king and I have business together.” Yeosang looked triumphant. “Perhaps similar business to you and Wooyoung in the library yesterday.” 

Yeosang’s eyes widened and Wooyoung’s gaze snapped up to Seonghwa in horror as he looked between the two of them, smiling. 

“Now, I have business to attend.” He nodded to both of them. “Yeosang, I am glad you are recovering well enough that you could handle Wooyoung like that.” 

Yeosang did not give any outward sign of embarrassment but Wooyoung could not meet Seonghwa’s eyes as Yeosang pressed his lips together as if trying to think of a response. 

Seonghwa nodded in amusement. “I will check in again tomorrow morning. It would be helpful to have a list of those promising apprentices for me to turn into the king later.” 

“You are a terrible man, Master,” Yeosang called as he walked away. 

Seonghwa paused at the door, smiling as he opened it. “Understand this, Yeosang: I have been playing this game much longer than you. But even a new player should understand the difference between truth… and a generalized bluff that sparks paranoia.”

Yeosang got to his feet, cheek flushed with anger. “You mean you did not see-“

Seonghwa waved. “I hope the two of you do have fun. But if I do ever catch you among these shelves, believe me, you will know the  _ moment _ I see you.” 

“ _ Master _ -“ 

Seonghwa slipped out, Yeosang’s angry yells still audible through the door. Most likely, Wooyoung would quietly try and calm him. 

But Seonghwa was not thinking of that anymore. Their teasings were all in good fun. Harmless. 

But his stomach curled anxiously as he walked back to Hongjoong’s chambers. He shoved it down and replaced it with anticipation already curling dangerously in his abdomen. 

An entire day. 

Freedom. 

_ Hongjoong _ . 

 

~~~~~

 

Hongjoong sat stock still on his bed. 

The small bottle of oil that he had acquired through special means (Jongho getting it from the kitchens and delivering it with a disgusted expression that made Hongjoong usher him out with thin lips). Hongjoong did not look at it. His stomach churned and rolled. 

His heart was in his throat, making each breath come out stuttered. He was not panicking. What did he have to panic about? It was Seonghwa. It was him and Seonghwa and an entire day of just each other after  _ so long-  _

Hongjoong blew out a sharp breath, pressing his palm to his chest and feeling his heart racing painfully. God, he wanted it so desperately, but something about it seemed so foreign and strange after so long. 

But it was not. It was not, it was Seonghwa. Seonghwa, who knew him like the back of his own mind, who had trailed every part of Hongjoong before, who had mapped and learned and tested every crevice of his body- 

Hongjoong wished someone had created a word for them. He wished he could simply say he loved Seonghwa, it would be so much simpler. He wished it did not make his skin crawl to attach such a petty word to them. It would be such an easier task to simply say love, but Hongjoong could not sully their hearts like that. 

It was just his Seonghwa. 

Perhaps he should create a word, perhaps- 

_ Knock _ .  _ Knock _ .  _ Knock _ . 

Hongjoong practically leapt to his feet, breath picking up a little as the door slid open, and Seonghwa stepped inside, no longer needing to be announced by nosy guards. For a moment, Hongjoong wondered if he should try and send them away, but what did he care if they heard? 

There was nothing to stop them. 

Seonghwa closed the door slowly, as he did every other time he had ever entered Hongjoong’s chambers. He turned, as he always did, lips upturned in a warm, gentle, unhurried smile as his eyes trailed over Hongjoong in a way that made his skin erupt in shivers. Hongjoong felt warm. 

For a moment, there was nothing. 

Hongjoong seemed to have stopped breathing. Seonghwa simply watched him with eyes so soft, Hongjoong wanted to melt under their gentle caresses. The entirety of his room stretched between them. 

Years of torture stretched between them. 

Years of longing. Of pain. Of loss. Of wishing for a future, of just wishing for something more, something  _ better-  _

Seonghwa’s eyebrow lifted slightly, curiously, as his lips curled in gentle amusement. “What?” he asked, stepping away from the door and making his way purposefully across Hongjoong’s floor. “Why?” he repeated in a hushed whisper, laughing under his breath as he was suddenly right in front of Hongjoong- 

The scent of paper and ink and clean cloth- 

Seonghwa reached up a warm hand, brushing it under Hongjoong’s eyes, and they came away wet. Hongjoong blinked, and felt the warmth slide down his cheeks as Seonghwa continued to chuckle quietly, wiping them away. “What is this?” he whispered, smiling. “Are they good or bad?” 

Hongjoong did not know. Well,  he did- they were not bad- they were anything but bad, but what was considered good? His heart felt like it was full to bursting, his lungs trapped in an inhale, his blood freezing in his veins- his entire body stilling and freezing because Seonghwa- 

“I do not even know what to do with myself,” Hongjoong whispered, clutching at Seonghwa’s hand firmly. “I do not- I cannot even believe that this is real.” 

Seonghwa laughed, brushing more tears away, trailing a rough palm across his cheek and caressing it. “It is real,” he assured him in a whisper, leaning forward until their lips barely brushed. “And you need not do a single thing,” Seonghwa assured him, deft, gentle fingers laying at the throat of Hongjoong’s robes. His eyes were dark even as he smiled. “Simply allow me the pleasure to care for you.”  

Hongjoong sucked in a sharp breath as Seonghwa played with the tie at his throat. “You still are not opposed?” Seonghwa questioned, fingers pausing, eyes glancing up to Hongjoong’s. 

Hongjoong burst a short, wet laugh, reaching up and curling his fingers around Seonghwa’s, leaning up until their breaths mingled. Nerves faded as he felt Seonghwa lean back against him, familiar and stable. What had he to be nervous about? It was his Seonghwa. He was safe even at his most intimate and vulnerable. 

“I would never dream of refusing a chance to be with you,” Hongjoong assured him. “I am yours to do with as you wish.”

Seonghwa brushed their lips together, and Hongjoong felt the tie at his neck fall away. “I am here to do as  _ you  _ wish,” he whispered against warm skin. “Will you allow me to feel you once again?” Warm lips trailed over his cheek, breathing against his jaw. “To touch you once again?” Against the skin of his neck. “To give you pleasure in any way I can?” 

“ _ Yes _ .” Hongjoong shivered against the warm breath against his neck, fingers clutching at Seonghwa’s arms. “ _ Yes _ , Seonghwa, anything.” 

_ “Would you allow me to give you pleasure?”  _

_ “You make it sound as if you will get none for yourself.”  _

_ “Anything that would please you would be more than enough for myself.”  _

_ “I do not want you to think you must, simply because-”  _

_ “Your status as king has no place here. But because of what you are to me, it would be my privilege- my honor- to give you that which no one else is allowed.”  _

Seonghwa kissed the juncture of his shoulder. “Thank you,” was all he whispered, open and raw and real, and it made his throat close.  Hongjoong felt warm hands slide under the fabric of his robes, pressing against his chest and pushing the shoulder of his robes off, lips trailing over the skin that was slowly revealed. 

Hongjoong’s eyes fell closed as Seonghwa’s lips trailed over his shoulder and his robes fell from his upper half, secured only at his waist. Already, Hongjoong could feel a heat curling in his stomach- a familiar, foreign heat that he had not been afforded in so long- 

Seonghwa’s hands were suddenly everywhere, caressing and trailing and feeling across his arms, trailing over his chest, and nails scratching the barest amount over his abdomen- 

“Gods, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa whispered hoarsely as large hands landed on the dip of his hips, gripping firmly, the warmth making him shiver from the exposed skin that was chilled. “Would you forgive me if I did not take my time?” 

“I would beg that you hurry,” Hongjoong returned in a low murmur, eyes closing tightly as Seonghwa cared nothing for his concentration and continued to press warm, open-mouthed kisses to his skin. “I do not thin-  _ think- _ ” his voice caught as Seonghwa began to suck gently at his shoulder, “that I would stand to wait for long.” 

“So I may proceed?” Seonghwa asked, lifting his head until their noses brushed. 

“ _ Please _ ,” Hongjoong practically begged, weak grip holding onto Seonghwa as if it would matter. 

Seonghwa’s hands slid along his jaw, pulling him forward, their lips meeting, and for the first time in… 

For the first time in forever, Hongjoong did not succumb to a demand to take and give and take and give what little they were allowed. Seonghwa worked his mouth open in seconds, claiming Hongjoong’s tongue as if he had always been gifted it, and Hongjoong did not grab back at him, did not press against him in a desperate fight for touch- 

Hongjoong sighed against his lips, braced his hands and tilted his head back, allowing Seonghwa a deeper angle, and he simply  _ felt _ . 

He did not fight. He simply fell into Seonghwa’s current and allowed him to carry him along, willing and pliant. Seonghwa worked his body with the skill of a potter shaping clay. 

One hand trailed to his waist, making him shiver as Seonghwa pushed against him, pushing him back step after step- 

The tie around his waist fell away. Hongjoong  gasped at the exposure- a sound that was swallowed by Seonghwa- and suddenly the backs of his knees found the edge of his bed, and Seonghwa pushed him back. Hongjoong fell willingly, whimpering as their lips were parted. 

He looked up at Seonghwa who stared at him, raw and open, eyes trailing from his eyes to his chest to his… 

Hongjoong laid before Seonghwa, bared and naked. He did not shrink away though- never from Seonghwa. He swallowed thickly, blood rushing beneath the surface and heating his skin in a way that made him want to squirm. 

Hongjoong shook as Seonghwa lifted hands to his own robes’ ties. 

“You are beautiful,” Seonghwa whispered, voice a little thick. 

_ “You are beautiful.” _

_ “Must you have so many com-compliments for me?” _

_ “I hate to call you beautiful.”  _

_ “Wh-  _ Seonghwa-  _ Why?”  _

_ “It is hideous compared to you. I hate to lower you so.”  _

Hongjoong’s coil of heat grew tighter and he let his head fall back for a moment before he heard the rustle of clothing, and his eyes snapped up in time to see the robes loosen around Seonghwa’s neck and fall open, exposing the pale, smooth skin of his chest. Hongjoong’s mouth was dry as he swallowed. Within minutes, they had exposed more to each other than they had in years. Hongjoong had forgotten the little beauty spot just below Seonghwa’s collar bone. 

He remembered how sensitive the area was, and how he used to spend so much time teasing and playing with the area. 

Seonghwa smiled coyly. “I want to do everything at once,” he admitted in a low voice, hands falling to the tie at his waist. “But every part of me wants to savor it.” Long fingers undid the complex tie, and Hongjoong pushed himself onto his elbows, breathing quickly as he was revealed Seonghwa’s  _ everything-  _

What looked like miles of pale, unblemished skin (his eyes trailed over the scar beneath his ribs and remained for only a moment before dragging to the jut of his slim hips). 

“We can do both,” Hongjoong assured him, fingers clenching at the blankets under him. “But for now-” 

Seonghwa nodded, arms dropping and allowing the robe to fall to the ground in a pile, leaving Hongjoong just staring because what else could do when faced with perfection? Seonghwa moved towards him, and Hongjoong scrambled back further onto the bed as Seonghwa climbed on, following after him.

It felt like being those ignorant children again. But different. Less vapid sweetness, and a more sophisticated flavor that twisted about his tongue as they occupied the same space. 

Hongjoong fell against the pillows at the top, still settling against them as Seonghwa crawled over him, arms and legs straddling Hongjoong, staring down at Hongjoong, hair falling passed his eyes. 

Both of them completely open to each other. 

Neither of them moved. Hongjoong felt like at any moment he might snap because Seonghwa, and his smile and absolute beauty and Hongjoong wanted to give his everything over to him and just let him do as he pleased because Hongjoong trusted and relied on him so much. 

Hongjoong lifted a trembling hand, brushing Seonghwa’s hair back slowly. Seonghwa turned his head, kissing his hand gently, and Hongjoong threaded his fingers through the strands. 

_ “Have you ever…”  _

_ “No. Never with anyone…. Have you?” _

_ “Nearly once. When I was much younger. He was from the same village.”  _

_ “So we will be… each other’s firsts?” _

_ “If I have my way, we will be our lasts as well.”  _

Seonghwa kissed him, and Hongjoong allowed himself to sink into the bed, moaning low in his throat as everything felt a million times more powerful in such a position. 

One of Seonghwa’s hands kept himself suspended above Hongjoong while the other trailed over his chest, running gentle nails down his skin and Hongjoong squirmed against the ministration, breath picking up in anticipation. 

Seonghwa’s tongue wrapped around his own, guiding it forward and sucking on it hurriedly, Hongjoong loose and pliant against him, simply allowing him to take whatever he liked. 

It was not a hurried kiss, silenced by fear and muted with apprehension. It was free and hot and loud- their breaths audible and Seonghwa’s little gasps of air loud in the otherwise silence while Hongjoong tore through the quietness with gentle moans. 

Nails reached his hip, and Hongjoong’s breath stuttered. 

Seonghwa’s hand sudden dragged over his most sensitive area, and it was like lightning crackling across Hongjoong’s skin. He gasped, arching hard enough that their lips broke apart. The touch was gone as soon as it came, but Hongjoong’s chest heaved at the slightest touch, so much more than they had been allowed- 

Seonghwa stared at him as if Hongjoong had hung the stars, trailing his hand in circles around his hip, making him shake at the remnants of the touch. 

“So long,” Seonghwa whispered, expression so open and vulnerable and adoring. “Hongjoong, we have been apart for so long-” 

His eyes stung, but Hongjoong blinked back the emotions, nodding slowly. “No more,” he whispered, taking the hand by his hip and threading their fingers. “We do not have to wait anymore- we never have to part  _ ever again- _ ” 

Seonghwa kissed him, the most alluring mixture of rough and smooth and desperate, and Hongjoong’s eyes fell closed, still clinging to Seonghwa’s hand. 

Never again. It tasted sweeter than pure sugar on his tongue. 

Seonghwa shifted their intertwined hands, leaning his weight onto it as he guided it to lay beside Hongjoong’s head. His other hand lifted, falling down between them, and Hongjoong barely had a moment to gather himself before Seonghwa’s wrapped a warm hand around his member. 

Hongjoong cried out regardless, arching into the hold, but Seonghwa kept his contact this time, setting a slow, constant rhythm of a rough skin against skin friction that made Hongjoong throw his head back as the breath was knocked from his lungs. Their lips fell apart again, but Seonghwa busied himself by tasting the curve of his shoulder, biting and kissing. 

It was indescribable. 

Hongjoong felt as if someone had set his body aflame, everything too much (as little as it was) but he wanted more. It was tortuous, Seonghwa’s slow pace that felt like he was dragging Hongjoong’s entire soul up and then shoving it back down into his body. 

_ So long-  _

Hongjoong whimpered as the pleasure tinged with pain at the rough drag, and Seonghwa hushed him quietly, removing his hand, and that only made him whimper louder, chasing after the feeling, and Seonghwa laughed against his skin. 

“Relax, Hongjoong,” he bid. “I told you- simply allow me to give you everything.” 

Hongjoong fell back, chest heaving, skin tingling, and Seonghwa kissed one pectoral gently, and Hongjoong heard to pop of the cork being drawn from the bottle on his side table. He clenched his eyes shut. 

So long, so long, so long without him- 

_ “More, Seonghwa, more, please-”  _

_ “Shh, I will not hurt you.”  _

_ “It does not hurt, just give me more, I- Ah!”  _

_ “I will give you everything you want. But allow me my security in knowing I will not harm you.”  _

_ “You can treat me rougher than that, I will not break.”  _

_ “I will treat you as I think you deserve.”  _

Hongjoong was never left untouched- while Seonghwa’s hand was busied, his mouth took over, sucking dark bruises into Hongjoong’s skin that made him twitch and push up into his mouth as his tongue soothed the bruises. 

He felt cool oil drip onto his stomach as Seonghwa’s hand moved lower, and he swallowed thickly, not even bothering to brace himself. 

They could take their time. They could be loud. They could savor every moment. Because they were now free. This was not a quick satiation, it was pure and raw feeling finally able to pour over both of them. 

Hongjoong, through the haze of desperate cries, memorized the exact feeling of Seonghwa’s hand dragging, slick and cool against his heated member, drawing out sound after sound after sound- 

“I had forgotten,” Seonghwa whispered, pulling away from his skin to speak, though his hand never ceased, and Hongjoong watched him through hooded, heavy eyes. “The sort of sounds you made when we were able to do this.” He smiled, but it faltered, overtaken by lax expression of desire. “I wish to hear them the rest of my life.” 

“They are yours,” Hongjoong assured him, breath hitching as Seonghwa tightened his grip, doubling his speed from a lazy stroke to a quicker motion that cut Hongjoong’s voice off as he reveled in the sensation of Seonghwa against him. “ _ Gods _ , Seonghwa, you-” He cried out, hips bucking as he twisted his wrist with a flourish. His legs twisted as he tried to pull away and press closer, his mind torn. “Seonghwa, please- I want-  _ Please- _ ” 

“What are mine?” Seonghwa questioned, a little more breathless. He shifted his lower half back, until he rested mostly against Hongjoong’s legs. Hongjoong could feel the stiff pressure of Seonghwa against his thigh as Seonghwa’s weight shifted against him. “What are mine, Hongjoong?”

“My everything,” he gasped, eyes flying open as Seonghwa rolled his hips down, dragging his hard member against Hongjoong’s thigh. Seonghwa cursed, and Hongjoong thrusted up to meet him- making Seonghwa hiss and his own throat constrict as he pushed into the other’s hand. “Everything- every sound I make is yours, you created it, it belongs to you-  _ Seong- _ .” 

Rough lips captured his own, a moan pushed into his mouth as Seonghwa redoubled his efforts, rutting against Hongjoong’s thigh, the hand around his member shaking. The heat of his lips, the drag of his hand, the wanton thrusts against his thigh- 

Hongjoong had no clothing to grasp, so his fingers wound within Seonghwa’s hair- anything to steady himself. It was so tempting to simply let everything go, to allow his mind to exit the scene, but he wanted to remember this. He wanted to document and record every moment- 

Every moan from Seonghwa’s increasingly loosened tongue. Every gasp spark from the slightly wilder thrusts against him. Every spark the gathered at the base of Hongjoong’s spine as everything was so much, so warm, so hot, so fast, so slow- 

_ “One day, I will be able to treat you as you deserve.”  _

_ “How have you not done that?”  _

_ “I am too hurried. Too focused on… well, you, but I did not pay proper attention to remembering everything.”  _

_ “Remembering?” _

_ “How you sounded. What you did. What pleasured you most and what did not.”  _

_ “Everything pleasured me. More than anything I have ever experienced. It is not your duty to cater to what I like most.”  _

_ “Hongjoong, you are truly a fool if you would call it duty. Could you not see how affected I was by knowing I was causing you such pleasure? It is not a simple desire to give you everything. It is a mutually beneficial action, I assure you” _

_ “Then, perhaps this next time, you should pay closer attention.”  _

Hongjoong wanted to cry. And while the tears welled as emotions, sensations, and memories clashed inside his mind, they were fought back as Seonghwa pulled away only enough to breathe and whisper, “I want to hear everything,” voice rough and lips a bright red, so different from their usual pale pink. 

Hongjoong captured them again, and Seonghwa’s thumb pressed to the slit at the head, and Hongjoong was sure the whole palace was going to hear everything. 

He practically thrashed in Seonghwa’s grip, limbs tensed and a thinnest sheen of sweat clinging to his skin as nonsensical shouts fell from his lips that were eventually swallowed by Seonghwa, moaning into his mouth, his tongue losing concentration and purpose, simply dragging against his own hurriedly. 

The coil of lightning and heat and tension in his stomach tightened, dangerously close to giving Hongjoong a relief of the pressure. 

“Seonghwa-” Hongjoong gasped, hips thrusting upward and making the man above him moan as he matched his pace, dropping his head to Hongjoong’s neck and sucking hard enough to hurt. “S-Seonghwa, please, I am- I am going-” 

“Wait for me,” Seonghwa begged, grinding his hips against Hongjoong’s, and Hongjoong fought passed the urge to just let go, just to succumb to Seonghwa, and wrapped his own hand around Seonghwa’s desperate member. 

“ _ Hongjoong- _ ” His grip stuttered, faltering for a moment as Hongjoong dragged his hand up Seonghwa’s member, watching with rapt fascination as his eyes clenched shut, his entire body tensing at the simple action, as Hongjoong had. 

_ “Gods, it’s so different, Hongjoong.” _

_ “What is? Tell me how it is different.”  _

_ “You- Ah! Your hand, it is- it is soft.”  _

_ “Yours are rough.”  _

_ “So you l-like to remind me.”  _

_ “I like them.”  _

Hongjoong’s hands had only been used for vague sword fighting when he was younger. Not even enough to build a single callus. His hands were small, dainty, and smooth with softness that was born of status. Seonghwa’s were rough with village work, and then page work, writing and turning pages and threading tomes together to place in the library. 

To Hongjoong, it made the drag of his hands against him all that much sweeter. 

Seonghwa described Hongjoong as if he was not being touched at all, but somehow facing unimaginable pleasure and desire from it. Like a cloud. 

“Hongjoong, do not-  _ Gods, Hongjoong- _ ” Seonghwa thrust down to meet his rhythm, and Hongjoong bucked up to encourage Seonghwa to keep moving. 

They loss all pattern and rhythm, both of them, eyes shut tightly and fingers still interlocked by digging crescents into each others skin as their bodies moved together as one- naked, pale skin dragging against soft bedsheets. 

Hongjoong’s hand fell from Seonghwa’s hair, digging blunt nails into his shoulder. “Close,” he whispered hoarsely. “I am so close, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa was silent for a moment, tightening his grip of Hongjoong until it was almost painful, but Hongjoong chased the feeling all the same as his grip was reinforced on Seonghwa who panted helplessly against his neck. 

He shifted upward only slightly, until his lips brushed Hongjoong’s earlobe that he sucked on gently before swallowing. “Let go,” he whispered. “Let go of everything, Hongjoong.” 

He thumbed at his head again, and his hand stalled, squeezing Seonghwa who gasped, hips thrusting once more. 

Hongjoong’s head fell back, back arching as everything burst to the surface, his mind wiping and his vision whiting out as he felt everything- 

Years. 

Everything finally dragged out of him, endless and intense and unbearable, his breath stalling as tears slid down his cheek- 

He felt warmth against his thigh, and then a weight settling against his chest, warm breaths whispered across his chest. 

His breath knocked back into his chest as Hongjoong trembled as his eyes cracked open. His chest heaved, pushing up against Seonghwa who rested his head against it, one arm still trying to keep him from crushing Hongjoong as his own release mingled with Hongjoong’s, arm shaking with the effort. 

Hongjoong lifted a weak, tired arm and guided Seonghwa down until he was fully laying atop him, and Hongjoong did not even notice the slick substance between them, pressing his lips to Seonghwa’s sweaty fringe and closing his eyes as his hand traced up and down Seonghwa’s spine lazily. 

The room was warm. 

Hongjoong felt as if he had just awakened from a long nap, sunlight gentle against their bare skin that Hongjoong reveled in being able to touch. 

He was free to touch. 

Seonghwa breathed against him, only moving to shift further up onto Hongjoong’s chest, making the king hiss as he rubbed against his sensitive area. Seonghwa murmured a quiet apology as he settled back against Hongjoong, the thumb of their intertwined fingers rubbing against the back of Hongjoong’s hand. 

This… Hongjoong blinked back more tears that threatened to spill around the swelling of his heart. This was something they had never had before. 

Seonghwa closed his eyes, simply laying against Hongjoong, allowing his tired limbs to rest as the aftermath left them both hazy and sated. Hongjoong laid back, eyes half closed, but open enough to watch the men before him sleepily. His hand dragged over Seonghwa’s bare skin, eliciting a little shiver every now and then. 

It was warm. 

This was something they never had before. 

There was no rushing to wake themselves back up, there was no fear that the longer they stayed, the more chance there was someone would come back. There was no quickly dressing to have even a sliver of a chance of explaining it away if someone where to enter. There was no shoving Seonghwa through the window, heart tearing in half as he had to push him away after something so precious. 

They rested against each other. In each other’s arms. 

Seonghwa’s lashed brushed his cheeks as he tilted his head slightly, pressing barely-there kisses against Hongjoong’s chest. Hongjoong carded a hand through his hair, and Seonghwa hummed, like a cat enjoying being pet, and Hongjoong couldn’t have made a noise around the lump in his throat. 

This was permanent. This was his. This was  _ theirs _ . 

Hongjoong didn’t fight the tears that finally fell as he continued to brush Seonghwa’s hair. 

Perhaps Seonghwa could feel his breathing shift, but he opened tired eyes and glanced up at Hongjoong, and his expression fell. “Are they still good tears?” he asked carefully, shifting to sit up, but Hongjoong kept him in place with a gentle hand. 

Hongjoong met Seonghwa’s eyes- completely different eyes than the brilliant scholar or wise advisor. These were eyes only for Hongjoong, gentle and open, and sharing every emotion because what did they have to hide from each other? 

_ “Do not look at me like that…”  _

_ “Like what?”  _

_ “Like… I do not know. But it makes my heart hurt, Seonghwa.”  _

_ “I simply am looking at you.”  _

_ “But you look so sad.”  _

_ “I can assure you, I am the most happy I have been ever in my life. With you.”  _

_ “Then why do you look so sad.”  _

_ “Because I see you as perfect in every way, and I know that you have given me permission to experience that, but I understand that there will never be a time when we can truly be each others.”  _

“You are everything I could ever desire,” Hongjoong whispered, throat closing up and making it hard. “I will never ask for another thing as long as I live, now that I have you with me.” 

His fingers trembled as they curled in his hair, feeling the soft strands and knowing that this was real. Seonghwa’s expression softened as he pressed another kiss to Hongjoong’s stuttering chest. “If you keep speaking so gently, I cannot guarantee that my composure will keep,” Seonghwa warned with a weak whisper. 

“Throw composure away,” Hongjoong begged. “I certainly have no use of it here. I myself am about to sob uncontrollably.” 

“Why?” Seonghwa questioned, glancing up, and Hongjoong could get lost for days in his eyes, but he lifted their joined hands as tears fell quicker. 

“Because I have you know. You have me. And as of now, there is nothing to part us.” He dropped his hand from his hair to his cheek, and as Seonghwa blinked at him, Hongjoong saw his dark eyes begin to become misty. “I am yours forever now,” he whispered thickly. “Forever and I always, I can now be yours.” The words settled heavy against his chest, like a stone, but they were not suffocating. “Seonghwa, I am yours,” he repeated, savoring the words on his tongue as Seonghwa’s tears spilled over his hand. Hongjoong swiped them away, his smile watery and disbelieving. “Forever- for as long as you allow me- I am yours, I am yours-” 

Seonghwa shifted upward, kissing him hard, saltwater on their lips and tongues as Seonghwa threaded fingers through Hongjoong’s hair, warmth spreading across Hongjoong’s chest, and it was so hard to breathe, but he felt like he was floating- 

Seonghwa rested their foreheads together, a gesture they had done so often, but that they did now without fear or regard. He panted against Hongjoong’s lips, swallowing thickly. “My mind would have to leave me completely for me to ever refuse you,” Seonghwa assured him. “Forever,” he promised. “Forever, I will you have you. Forever, I want to be beside you- I want to be yours, I want to stand with you through everything-” 

Hongjoong brushed his hair back tenderly, voice shaking. “You have been with me through  _ everything _ , Seonghwa. You have never left my side for a  _ moment- _ ” His voice broke, and Seonghwa caught his hand, bringing to his lips to kiss firmly, eyes shutting and dropping tears onto Hongjoong’s hand. “I cannot describe to you what you are to me.” 

“I would be a fool to try and say what I feel,” Seonghwa agreed, lips brushing his hand once more in an intimate gesture. “Love was not enough since long ago.” 

Hongjoong nodded quickly. “We no longer need to hide,” he whispered, as if just realizing it himself. “We are together, we are forever, Seonghwa.” 

Forever had seen such a foreboding concept before. 

What if they had to hide forever? What if this pain followed them forever? What if they were somehow parted forever? 

Now, forever seemed like a door, waiting to be opened. And perhaps they did not know what was behind it, perhaps they were frightened of what may be directly inside it… but it no longer contained only strife and death and pain. It was a door of opportunity, not detriment. 

Seonghwa kissed him slowly, their hands resuming their refamiliarization of each other’s bodies. 

Forever. 

It whispered between them, like a whisper of a breeze rustling through grass. Like a ripple spreading out from a centerpoint. 

Forever.

It made Hongjoong want to cry. It made him want to sing. His soul soared as Seonghwa remained with him, their lips growing lazy as the warmth of the room, the safety they had obtained, the heaviness of their limbs settled upon both of them like a woolen blanket in winter. 

Yours. His. Forever. 

Seonghwa eventually grew too tired to keep his head up, allowing it to fall into the crook of Hongjoong’s shoulder where he continued to mouth lazily, warm breath and soft tongue darting out every now and then. Hongjoong sighed, eyes falling closed. He cared nothing for the cracks of his ceiling or the bright light streaming through the window. 

He burned the sensation of Seonghwa’s body against his, Seonghwa’s mouth against him, the heat of their bodies mingling into his mind, carefully. Between them and the world was only a thin paper door. 

Outside the door was treaties and danger and difficulties and droughts and responsibilities. And Seonghwa. 

But inside, he could have Seonghwa without all that. And perhaps, Hongjoong would soon have to return to that world, but for now- for as long as they desired today- all he had was Seonghwa and  _ time _ . 

Hongjoong did not sleep, but his eyes fell closed and his mind grew fuzzy as Seonghwa rested and breathed against him, no longer kissing his skin, but simply breathing easily. Hongjoong did not check if he had fallen asleep, a peace that neither of them had ever know surrounding them. He did not wish to break it by even thinking of moving. 

Hongjoong had wished since they had begun: he only desired to rest with Seonghwa in his arms. Intimacy, fast kisses and quick releases, those were difficult to come by but common enough to subsist upon. But Seonghwa within his arms… Resting with their chests moving in tandem and their minds on the precipice of sleep…. Warmth and Seonghwa’s body against his and peace and Seonghwa’s gentle breaths as his own personal lullaby and silence and Seonghwa’s heartbeat against his-

This was the first time Hongjoong had ever been allowed that. This was the longest he had ever had Seonghwa within his arms, since the two of them had met. The tears burned his eyes even as he continued to lay in a hazy dream. 

The sun was passed its peak by the time Hongjoong actually fell asleep, drifting off into somewhere deep and dark and warm. 

At first, he did not dream. But, of course, as most every night, he dreamed of blood and bars and being too far away. Long halls that he could not make it down, locked doors that would not open but he did not know why he needed to get through so desperately- 

He woke with a small jerk, but no longer with heaving breaths and racing hearts. Like any frightening dream, he simply opened his eyes slowly, greeted by a dimmer light outside his window than before. He took a deep breath to calm his mind, surprised when he was met with no weight against his chest. 

Hongjoong almost panicked, not feeling Seonghwa’s body atop his chest, but then he registered the warmth at his side, tilting his head and finding Seonghwa pressed against his side, head resting on his shoulder and arm thrown over Hongjoong’s stomach. 

Seonghwa’s eyes were closed, but the arm across his stomach shifted, trailing his arm and ending at his hand that had somehow been let go of while they slept. Seonghwa grabbed it once again, bringing it to rest on his stomach. Seonghwa shifted closer, one leg thrown over one of Hongjoong’s. 

“I ‘m here,” Seonghwa slurred in a whisper, not even sounding half-awake. “I have you.” 

Hongjoong’s breath hitched. In his entire life… in six years as king, eighteen as a prince, twenty five years of so many nightmares and terrors that chased him throughout the nights… he could not recall a single time when he had had someone beside him to comfort him. 

Seonghwa pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder, still not even opening his eyes as his thumb stroked the back of Hongjoong’s hand. “Go back to sleep,” he coaxed in a murmur. “I am here, I will not leave you.” As if to prove it, he used his leg thrown over Hongjoong to pull him closer, his grip tightening on his hand, refusing to release him. 

Hongjoong’s breath left him as he dropped his head to nose at Seonghwa’s hair, kissing the top of his head quietly, chest heavy. 

He only desired to have Seonghwa in his arms. He only desired to no longer feel so alone in this bed of his. He rested his cheek against Seonghwa’s head, his hair tickling his skin, but his eyes fell closed again. 

“You have never left me,” Hongjoong whispered, just for the sake of ensuring Seonghwa never questioned, never doubted himself and everything he had done for Hongjoong. 

He could feel Seonghwa swallow against his shoulder, kissing his skin once more before settling back. “You have never left me behind, either,” he assured Hongjoong, dragging back under into sleep. 

Hongjoong easily shook off the remnants of the nightmare with Seonghwa’s warmth and arms around him. Was this what it felt like? Was this what it was to truly hold someone? To be able to claim a side of love that was not purely physical? 

Seonghwa had always been a balm to Hongjoong, but he was almost dizzy with how tight his throat was he closed his eyes once more. 

Was this what forever felt like? Was this true freedom? 

They slept, bodies overlapping and intertwined, and Hongjoong felt so warm- like a winter morning underneath thick blankets, knowing that as long as you were here, you were safe from the chill. For the first time in their lives, they slept in each other’s arms. 

When Hongjoong awoke again, the dim light had faded to darkness, and he blinked his eyes open peacefully, in no hurry to move, and found Seonghwa already awake and staring at him almost dreamily. Hongjoong could not help the upturn it brought to his lips- Seonghwa’s entire demeanor. 

He was pliant and loose, resting his chin on his shoulder with an upturn of his lips that was not sharp or sarcastic, but gentle and adoring. His finger traced patterns in Hongjoong’s skin, making goosebumps follow his gentle scraping. His eyes were bright and peaceful. It was almost impossible to see the sharp scholar who walked briskly down the halls with a purpose in his mind and a goal to be accomplished. 

Save for the smallest glint in his eyes that appeared as he noticed Hongjoong’s eyes opening. “Did you sleep well?”

Hongjoong had to laugh, bending down and answering by kissing Seonghwa slowly- barely even a kiss, it was so lazy, just pressing and breathing each other in- taking all the time in the world- 

_ They had all the time in the world-  _

“Will you stay here tonight?” Hongjoong murmured, already knowing the answer in his heart, but wanting nothing more than to hear Seonghwa say it with his own mouth. 

Seonghwa smiled, brushing a hand over Hongjoong’s cheek. “They could not tear me out with a dozen soldiers,” he whispered, kissing Hongjoong’s jaw. 

His breath hitched at the sensitive area, and Seonghwa trailed warm hands down his sides, warding off the chill of the evening air creeping in. It was so slow and warm and perfect and everything they could never have- 

But they had forever. 

“And I plan to stay,” Seonghwa added quietly, whispering against his skin, “because I had planned another event for the two of us.” His hand trailed over Hongjoong’s hip and he braced himself, but Seonghwa slid around the curve of his hip, shifting Hongjoong’s leg until it bent, and his finger traced teasing, tickling patterns along the back of his thigh. He pushed his thigh back slightly towards Hongjoong’s chest, and his breath stalled dangerously as Seonghwa’s finger teased between his legs, and Hongjoong almost jerked away at the gentle touch, absolutely welcome and wanted and desired, but- 

Three or four years before. When was the last time they had ever had time for something so much more in depth- 

Longer than that. Six? Was it not right after Hongjoong became king? A desperate night of horrible risks they toed the line of, a sad night filled with tears and a desire to just turn back time, to stop the turn of the clock. And Seonghwa, warm and pulling and coaxing and kind. And Hongjoong, on the verge of being a mess, but holding on because he had no other choice. 

Seonghwa’s finger disappeared. “What do you think?” he questioned, pulling away from Hongjoong, staring at him questioningly. “I am content to sleep or talk, but… I think we may appreciate taking advantage of what time we have.” 

Hongjoong’s chest rose and fell quickly at the thought, his stomach already coiling with red hot lightning. Hongjoong brushed a weak hand through Seonghwa’s hair. “Did I not say I wanted to give you everything?” he whispered. 

Seonghwa smiled, kissing his chest. “I am simply making sure.” 

Hongjoong’s heart was racing, excited and fearful and elated and Seonghwa- 

“Take me,” Hongjoong breathed, and when Seonghwa met his eyes, neither of them could look away. “Take me, Seonghwa. I want to be yours, I want you to make me yours-” 

Seonghwa hushed him, kissing him firmly, pulling a low moan from Hongjoong as he bit his bottom lip gently, sucking on it. Hongjoong braced a hand against Seonghwa’s chest, both arms sliding around his neck and pulling him down against him. 

Seonghwa fell against him easily, hands trailing and exploring, and Hongjoong would never tire of his touch, never, never, never- 

Hongjoong suddenly pushed him over, and Seonghwa broke away, looking confused for a moment as Hongjoong continued to push and push until Seonghwa was on his back and Hongjoong straddled his waist, hands braced on Seonghwa’s chest as the man looked up at him with wide eyes blown black with desire as Hongjoong smiled down at him, giddy and shaking. 

“Can you do it like this?” Hongjoong asked, shifting backwards slightly, making Seonghwa stiffen and catch Hongjoong’s hips. 

“I would love to test it thoroughly,” Seonghwa breathed, squeezing his hips and falling to the swell of his ass as he squeezed that too, fingers slipping close to between Hongjoong’s cheeks. 

Hongjoong shivered. Seonghwa smiled and reached for the oil on the bedside table. 

Ten years. Eighteen years. Six years. 

It did not matter anymore. Such numbers were insignificant- meaningless, worthless- in the face of forever. 

Hongjoong threw his head back, moaning as Seonghwa’s fingers entered him. 

A lifetime. A lifetime of learning and relying and building a somehow greater kingdom than they already had. A kingdom where people could love- could choose to love- whomever. A kingdom where Yeosang had Wooyoung to support him and Wooyoung had Yeosang to love him. A kingdom where Seonghwa had Hongjoong and Hongjoong had Seonghwa. 

They had seen so much horror, so many things Hongjoong wished he could forget. 

Seonghwa’s breath stuttered as Hongjoong sank down, his fingers pressing beautiful bruises into Hongjoong’s hips as he chanted Seonghwa’s name breathlessly, unable to find another word to utter. 

All of it mattered. Because all of it lead here. It was horrible and frightening and suffocating, but it lead to Seonghwa, here, in his arms, and Hongjoong,  here, pressed against him and sobbing his name and neither of them having anything but each other on their minds. 

No fear. No apprehension. No checking over their shoulders for their forbidden love. 

They were together. They were each others’. They were forever. 

They were free. 

(Seonghwa grasped his hands, eyes falling closed as Hongjoong set a slow rhythm.)

The crown had been nothing but a burden to Hongjoong, even before he was forced to wear it. 

And he was so glad to share its burden. He was so glad Seonghwa was strong enough to aid him in carrying it. 

He was so glad that Seonghwa stood beside him, gave him the strength to bear the burden he had been cursed, gifted, and blessed with. 

 

~~~~~

 

_ “Do you… do you know what it feels like to be in love?” _

_ Hongjoong glanced up at Seonghwa who was staring silently at his book, his robe drawn up high to hide a bruised placed by Hongjoong’s foolishly excited mouth.  _

_ His eyes trailed over Seonghwa’s stiff posture, long fingers, sharp eyes and soft lips, his brow furrowed and the evening sun as a halo around his dark hair.  _

_ “Why do you ask?” He questioned thickly.  _

_ Seonghwa looked up at him, swallowing with something almost like fear in his eyes. “I am afraid.” _

_ Hongjoong straightened slightly, alarmed by the gentle apprehension in his usually composed expression. “Of what?” He asked, shifting forward until their knees brushed.  _

_ His heart sank as Seonghwa shifted backwards, away from him, lowering his eyes. “I am afraid…” he swallowed, fingers flexing where they rested on his robe. “I am afraid to fall in love.”  _

_ Hongjoong heart leaps and tore at the same time. “To fall in love… with me?”  _

_ Seonghwa somehow managed to give him an unimpressed look. “No, I fear to fall in love with your head guard.”  _

_ Hongjoong wanted to laugh, but Seonghwa’s quickly fading amusement silenced it. “Why?” He asked, trailing over Seonghwa’s body, already so pleasing and exciting to him.  _

_ Seonghwa would not lift his eyes. “It is easy to explain away physical intimacy. It is easy to push that aside inevitably. But… if I fall deeper, if I feel more… it is harder to explain. It is harder to… it hurts more when it must inevitably be pushed aside.”  _

_ Hongjoong stared at Seonghwa with wide eyes, already shaking his head quickly. “Why?” He demanded. “Why must it be explained? Why must it be pushed aside?” _

_ Seonghwa looked up with frightened eyes, and Hongjoong was afraid for his heart. “How can something like this be sustained?” He demanded. “You are a Prince, Hongjoong. You will be king. Will you continue a meaningless fling with a tutor?”  _

_ Hongjoong lifted himself onto his knees, shuffling up to Seonghwa and taking his face between his hands. The tutor looked at him with wide eyes, mouth parted slightly as Hongjoong bore down on him, eyes firm and though his blood was cold with panic, it was not confused in the slightest.  _

_ “Who says this is meaningless?” He whispered. Seonghwa swallowed, jaw flexing. “Who says this is a simple fling?” He leaned down slightly. “I would continue to be with you until the day I die, if you allow it.”  _

_ Seonghwa looked torn, a hand coming to rest on Hongjoong’s hand, like he wanted to pull it away. “Hongjoong, you cannot-“ _

_ “Is it a simple fling for you?” Hongjoong asked. “Is it meaningless?” _

_ “No,” Seonghwa assured him quietly. “But Hongjoong-“  _

_ “I understood everything required when I first asked to kiss you. I am not making this statement in ignorance: I will give myself to you in whatever way you wish for however long you wish. I would spend eternity with you.” _

_ “Hongjoong, I am afraid-“ _

_ Hongjoong kisses him gently, a simple press of lips, and his chest tightened dangerously as Seonghwa deepened it almost desperately. Hongjoong pulled away, stroking his cheek comfortingly. “While you have been pondering what Love feels like, I have been  _ drowning _ in it, Seonghwa.” _

_ The tutor stared at him, wide eyes and stuttered breath, and Hongjoong brushed a thumb across his cheek.  _

_ “Tell me to part from you, and I will do it. But know that I am already far too deep to ever call this a meaningless fling.”  _

_ Seonghwa swallowed, eyes misty. “I am afraid,” he whispered, taking Hongjoong’s hands and pulling them from his face. Hongjoong held his breath as Seonghwa stared at them. “But… I have no desire in any part of my being to push you away. And that is what frightens me most.”  _

_ Hongjoong flipped his hands until he held Seonghwa’s firmly. “Many things are frightening. But it is less so if you are not alone…” _

_ Seonghwa lifted his eyes, wetting his lips as something warm entered his dark irises. ”It is frightening… to feel something so powerful for another,” Seonghwa whispered. “But I would ask you to share that burden with me…” _

_ Hongjoong nodded, kissing his forehead gently, resting there a moment. “It is… a terrifying and painfully lonely position…to be the crown prince… I would ask you to assist me in carrying that burden…”  _

_ Seonghwa lifted his hands to curl into the front of Hongjoong’s pristine, silken robes. “Forever,” he promised.  _

_ Hongjoong breathed in Seonghwa’s scent of books and leather, a scent he had come to find comfort in, and leaned against him. “Forever?”  _

_ It seemed like such a long time. Unimaginable. Hongjoong had never had something for forever. Never been promised something for forever.  _

_ Seonghwa nodded. “I am so deep already, Hongjoong. Forever, if you would have me.”  _

_ Hongjoong’s chest swelled, choking him in the most comforting way. “Forever,” he agreed quickly. “I will have you and give you Forever.” _

_He tried to imagine such a long time  but with Seonghwa beside him. It seemed so wonderful and impossible, but he indulged his fantasy._

_ As they listened for sounds of intrusion from the guards outside, the two rested against each other, wondering if Forever would ever come.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was a monster from start to finish but I loved it the whole time! Thank you for reading, and I hope nothing was disappointing!   
> I asked what you guys wanted and based on responses and my own plots I’ve developed, I will most likely be doing a spy/espionage au next! (It will be main pairing Seonghwa/Hongjoong Sorry if that’s boring)   
> It may take me a while to get that one up because it really isn’t my usual style and comfort zone but I really want to try!  
> So thank you again to everyone, and I hope to see you on my next work!   
> -SS


	8. The Weight of Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter!  
> Thank you so much to everyone who stuck with this and motivated me!  
> You guys are the best!  
> -SS

Minsoo had lived through much in his long life. Wars, family, death, love… 

He had watched a tavern burn down with his mother still inside, his father left like a corpse without her, wearing only the scars he gained trying to save her as a memory. He worked in a village where guards and servers of the king tormented and stole, shoving men, women, and children to the ground indiscriminately. 

He grew up with a stomach that was never quite full, bruises that never quite got the chance to heal before being reapplied, and a smile that could never fully grow before it was torn away. 

The previous king had made that better. At least, for his village that was important to the production of crops. The village not five miles away from his continued to lose everything they tried to hold onto. But, at least, some villages were thriving enough to try and help each other when times got dark. 

And then, the king was killed, found dead in his chambers with a dagger in his heart, long cold by the time a servant brought his food in the morning. And Minsoo felt his heart sink low with dread. 

The Crown Prince was but a boy. Surely, he was considered a  man by age, but he was untested and inexperienced. The kingdom knew little of him, the prince kept hidden behind walls thick and high in an attempt to preserve the only heir to the crown. And Minsoo was sure what little they had gained would be soon lost in his young, ignorant hands. 

The kingdom to their North threatened their borders. Minsoo, as village leader, prepared his people to flee if they should cross. 

Word was sent out: the king was calling for the head general to the palace, requesting an audience with him. Minsoo had actually laughed, making his wife think him insane. The Northern kingdom was not one to be persuaded by a youth so fresh to his position. Perhaps they would speak with a war-hardened soldier or general, but a boy in a king’s robe? The prince had only become king a fortnight ago. 

But he saw the enemy riding by, a small entourage, towards the palace. 

Three days later, they rode by again. 

Their forces withdrew. 

And Minsoo had stared, shocked to his core, a hot stone settling in his chest as he watched what should have been a bloodbath of innocent villagers ride away without so much as a skirmish. 

And Minsoo began to think the king was, perhaps, simply lucky. But then, guards stopped storming them. An announcement from the king, lowering their tax amount by over  _ half _ . Minsoo’s requests as a village leader began to be  _ listened to _ . If a guard was discovered taking advantage of a village, they suddenly never saw that guard around again. When he begged uselessly for more time to collect their tax amount, he was granted it. 

By the time the king had been in place only two years, Minsoo could not even recognize his village- content with food, free from cuts and bruises, no longer flinching in fear each time they exited their houses. The children were allowed to wander without a constant hold from their mothers. Husbands no longer feared leaving their wives at home, terrified of what they may return to. 

They were at peace. And he waited six years for it to crumble, but it held stronger than any battle-fortified wall, a peace they had never know settling over them. 

And then Minsoo met the king for the first time in that Royal Hall, providing them with relief yet again. And he knew, he had been correct to try and believe in this man. 

Seeing him enter that dungeon, expression stricken like the husbands he had seen return home to find their wives still on the floor... Minsoo watched a man he had come to respect, come to believe in, run to the lowly scholar he had spoken with, and watched the two of them orbit around each other in a dance only known by those familiar. 

It was jarring and tender and raw, like an exposed wound you watched in fascination. 

Minsoo’s heart sank low in his chest.  _ Oh _ . 

And he swore, the moment he saw the looks in their eyes as they stared at each other, terrified for their lives but having each other and being content… Minsoo swore to fight. 

“Councilor Jung?” 

Minsoo turned away from the window that gave him a view of the garden. “Yes?” he questioned a servant boy holding a scroll. 

He held the roll up. “Councilor Lee asked me to deliver this to you. He says it is for the meeting with the Southern village leaders tomorrow.” 

Minsoo took it with a grateful smile. “Thank you.” 

The servant grinned, bowing low and rushing off to his next task, and Minsoo held the scroll as he turned back to the garden. 

He came from a life of nonstop work- within the village, in the fields, around his home. He was not used to the free time this new position allowed. He often found himself doing servant’s work, just to have something to do. He needed to be moving constantly, working and finding something to fill the empty time. 

Times like this, though, he found an appreciation for simply staying still and… existing. 

The king and his advisor stood on a bridge, the king leaning to see the koi swimming, and the advisor simply nodding along to whatever he was saying, a barely hidden smile gracing his lips. Minsoo chuckled at such a formal title on one who stared with such warmth. However, there was no other official title for the other side of the advisor’s relationship with the king. 

Minsoo supposed he should be in the library, meeting with ambassadors to finalize the meeting tomorrow, but he was captivated by the sight before him, however private it may be. It made his chest swell. It made him turn his eyes to heaven, silently asking his wife if she was as shocked by everything as he still was. 

_ I think they’ve suffered enough,  _ He could hear her voice.  _ I think they should be allowed whatever they desire, however it may shock others.  _

They continued across the bridge, speaking with each other, and the space between them was  _ just  _ small enough to not  _ quite  _ be respectful, but it didn’t matter how far they stood when the king brushed his hand along the advisor’s wrist, grinning as if he were telling a joke. 

Minsoo no longer jumped when the advisor placed a finger to the king’s forehead, pushing it away and rolling his eyes. 

Minsoo had gotten used to heart-attack inducing behavior between the two. The advisor using the king’s name when his tongue slipped in public, the advisor touching the king freely, and, of course, turning down halls empty of people but the two of them and seeing something perhaps a bit too intimate. Even more usual, was finding them tucked into dark corners, hands held tight, foreheads pressed together as soft words passed from a concerned advisor to a weighted king. 

And Minsoo, as much as he swore to protect the two of them and what they were, had hidden away a sliver of concern for the two of them working together. 

And that concern had been thrown in  his face as well. 

Two years, and Minsoo had never seen a more terrifying duo than when the two of them were sitting beside each other. The advisor’s tongue was sharper than any sword, the king accenting his persuasive lilt with small cuts from his right hand. 

Truly, the two of them were like the gods of old, one mind connected between multiple bodies. 

And somehow- two years later, becoming so accustomed to the pair, seeing them so wrapped around each other- and he still stared at them and saw that same emotion from the first time he saw them in that dungeon. He did not know how they kept it hidden in their business dealings when in their private moments, it seemed they could not help it bursting out in their gazes and touches. 

The king laughed, turning to the advisor and brushing a hand over his cheek as he kissed him gently, pulling away and continuing on their way. 

The golden light of the afternoon made them seem like a painting. 

“Master!” came a quiet call from the edge of the garden. 

Both men turned, the advisor’s eyebrow raised as he caught sight of the head scholar standing, holding a scroll in his bound arm’s hand. Minsoo truly did not know much of everyone’s histories, but he knew that the fact that head scholar continued to call the advisor ‘master’ was something of a private joke. 

The advisor waved a hand to the king to tell him to wait, walking over. The head scholar met him halfway, speaking about something very rapidly, his bound arm shifting slightly as he gestured. The advisor placed a hand on his shoulder, voice gentle and apparently telling him to slow down because the head scholar took a deep breath and began speaking at a more regular pace. 

He shifted his bound arm as much as he could, holding the scroll out. 

More than likely, it had something to do with the meeting tomorrow. 

Minsoo could believe the king was nervous, needing to pick an heir to begin training to be a prince and king. He had certainly seen an increase in the king seeking the advisor out, some of that affection even slipping into their prior meetings recently, their hands intertwining under the table tightly. More often, he found them tucked into corners with quiet, scared whispers and gentle reassurances. Minsoo believed he would make the correct choice. 

The advisor took the scroll, nodding to the head scholar, who nodded, turning away and continuing to speak to someone. Minsoo had to lean to see further through the window, but standing on the path leading into the garden was the head stable hand. 

Now, there was something Minsoo had never seen coming. 

Their outburst so long ago to defend the king seemed so much more justified now. When Minsoo had first seen the stable hand grab the head scholar’s hand, he was sure he had missed something important. And that important thing was then shoved at him as the stable hand leaned down and kissed his hand gently. 

Now, their love was different. 

At first glance, Minsoo would have thought the head scholar rejected the advances, withdrawing his hand sharply and snapping something about overly persistent men. And it seemed that any time he was given the stable hand’s affections, he was rejecting him. This was still early on, when the head scholar could not even shift more than his hand without causing himself pain. 

The head scholar tripped one day as he walked down the hall from the library after a meeting. 

He stumbled, trying to catch himself, but he landed hard on the ground, barely able to save his face from colliding with the stone, but the impact jarred his injured arm enough to make him cry out sharply, bringing tears to his eyes,  and his chest heaving as he clutched at it with gritted teeth. 

And Minsoo had not even noticed the stable hand linger around the library hall, waiting for their meeting to adjourn, but suddenly he was beside the head scholar, hands pulling the head scholar’s away from his shoulder quickly. 

“Yeosang,” he whispered, voice thick with fear, “Yeosang- stop holding it, you’re going to make it worse, it’s okay-” 

Minsoo saw tears to match the scholar’s in the stable hand’s eyes as he held his hands tightly, speaking in rapid whispers, holding the scholar by the wrist to keep him from shifting his injured arm. His other hand rubbed quick, soothing circles into the scholar’s wrist. The scholar could only lean his head against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, and wait for the pain to pass. The stable hand could only sit uselessly beside him. 

Eventually, the scholar’s jaw unlocked, his breath easing some and he sat up, a little pale. “I am fine,” he said, a touch breathless. His pained expression softened as he lifted his good hand, brushing from of the tears from the other’s cheeks as he tried to smile through the lingering pain. “Wooyoung, the pain is gone, I am fine.” 

It was the most tender Minsoo had ever seen the scholar, and it obliterated his suspicion that the affections were one sided. 

The stable hand simply dropped his head, squeezing the hand. “You scared me,” he breathed. 

“I know,” the scholar whispered, dropping his hand. “But I am fine.” The scholar’s eyes flickered to the handful of men still lingering from the meeting. His expression became slightly more guarded. “Help me stand,” he requested. “I do not want to keep sitting on the ground.” 

This was still in the beginning of the law change. Everything still unsure and new. 

The stable hand nodded, shifting. “Keep your arm still,” he instructed, taking his uninjured hand and his other hand grasping at his hip, pulling him up without putting any pressure on his shoulder. The scholar still winced, and the stable hand whispered apologies until he was upright. 

The stable hand did not release his hand. 

And Minsoo began to realize that much of this relationship was beneath the surface. The king and his advisor shone from their eyes, in gentle touches and bitter amusement as they shoved like school children. In dark corners and tight holds and gentle, desperate whispers that no one but themselves had any right to hear.  

The head scholar and the head stable hand were… subtler. Minsoo began to see the warmth swimming in the scholar’s eyes even as he rejected the stable hand who was never discouraged and grinned as if this were just a game they played regularly. But he had found them, too, hidden in corners (or among the stables) with the scholar trying to touch his shoulder to soothe whatever pain had stabbed it, and the stable hand trying desperately not to hurt him further while trying to stop him from hurting himself. 

Theirs was quieter, more hidden, though the stable hand seemed content to display it a bit freer, the head scholar kept him at a careful arm’s length the majority of the time. (This was broken occasionally when the head scholar seemed in a good mood, or a particularly bad one, and sought out physical comfort or touches.) 

The head scholar continued speaking to the stable hand as they exited the garden, the stable hand slipping his hand into his, and the scholar did not reject the touch, instead leaning into him until the stable hand had to push back to keep from falling. 

Their fingers intertwined. 

When he looked back to the middle of the garden, the advisor’s arm was around the king’s waist, their lips pressed together as the king clutched the advisor’s robes tightly. It looked more like an scene of comfort than passion. He turned away from the window. 

Seeing both of the pairs side by side… both were something special, something unique. And both were heavily scarred. It was so easy to see- you didn’t need to stumble upon a hidden, dark corner to notice how each of them gravitated towards each other. 

It was clear as day to notice the king’s heavy shoulders and carefully hidden expressions that were only for his advisor; the advisors desperate attempt to provide comfort while shouldering his own burdens that the king held as well. It was quite easy to see behind the head scholar’s outward movements to notice the warmth and fear in his eyes as he danced around the stable hand but never withdrawing far; the stable hands worried eyes that constantly checked the scholar up and down as if a wound may have appeared without him noticing. 

Minsoo knew much of their darkest moments were carefully hidden behind locked doors and convincingly calm facades, but it only made him frown at the thought that there may be worse things than what he had seen glimpses of. 

They were so young. 

Perhaps the king and the advisor were further along then the scholar and the stable hand, but compared to Minsoo who had survived so much, it made his heart heavy to see these  _ children  _ bearing so much and bending, but not breaking under it all. 

Not for lack of trying: there had been times when the advisor was the only one to arrive to a meeting, assuring them that the king could not make it. No one questioned or fought the statement that was only barely calm enough to hide the concern deep in his eyes. 

There were times when Minsoo sought the head scholar for certain scrolls, and was informed that he was resting but not to worry as the head stable hand was tending to him. (It became clear that the rainy seasons and cold weather caused a lot of irritation to the scholar’s healed wounds. During the winter, the stable hand seemed to be constantly at his side, brushing off every attempt the scholar made to get him to return to his duties.) 

And Minsoo… he was sure that the old myths of a single soul being split into two were insane. He had given it some thought when he found his own wife, but dismissed it. Now… It was almost impossible to not believe that someone had put careful time and energy into making these men. 

As if they knew exactly what each would need to make it through their trials to make a better world. 

The king clutching the advisor’s hands between his, speaking in urgent tones as the advisor shook his head sharply until the king framed his face, forcing him to listen and hear his gentle reassurances. 

The head scholar cradling the stable hand’s head in his lap, whispering rote words from a book as he threaded fingers through his hair as the stable hand closed his eyes, matching his breathing to the scholar’s. 

Over two years, Minsoo had seen many moments. And he locked them all carefully away, allowing them to pass knowledge, but not judgement, over the people around him. 

The king holding the advisor’s head to his chest after a startling attempt on his life was made, whispering reassurances while the advisor kept a firm hand on the scratch on the king’s side that had narrowly missed becoming deeper. Days when it seemed that if you attempted to separate them, it would break something fragile trying to hold on. 

The stable hand whispering quiet apologies as he helped the head scholar try to move his arm in slow movements that the court physician said should help it heal, tear streaking his face as all motion was left to the stable hand as he simply tried to quiet pained cries. 

Both pairs were so afraid and bruised, even now. But it made the warm moments shine that much brighter.

The head scholar closing his hand around a book and holding its weight without his hand giving way for the first time, eyes alight as the stable hand whooped with joy, hugging him tightly and kissing him deeply, the book dropping from his hand in favor of holding onto the other man. 

The king almost in tears with relief as they received word that the Eastern Kingdom agreed to a peace treaty and ally agreement. His advisor catching the man who had raced across the garden, waving the response scroll like a battle flag. One of their most unstable relationships, signed into peace. The advisor staring in disbelief until the king kissed the expression from his face. 

Minsoo had grown up with loving parents. He had been blessed to have a wife he loved and children who still spoke to him. But he had seen to much ugly in this world. 

And, perhaps, here in this position, he saw even more, across a broader map than before, but he was given constant reminders daily of why they continued to combat that darkness. He looked around this palace and he saw hope so strong it was unbreakable. 

They would choose an heir tomorrow. The king would begin training a noblemen’s child to be a prince. They were facing increasingly serious threats from the Western kingdoms that they had refused silk trade with. Immediately after choosing the heir, the prince-to-be would sit among them in a meeting to decide whether or not force was needed to ensure their peace. 

This new prince would be thrust into a world already soaked in darkness and hate. He would need to be prepared to face it head on. He would likely not understand until he was older, but Minsoo hoped that under the guide of the king, of his advisor, this new prince would be ready. 

If he was under the tutelage of someone like the king- who had faced darkness since he was thrust into his position, who had seen the violence and anger and tried to stop it, who had been shoved down by the hate around him but held on to one glimmering hope and clawed his way out, who had rebuilt his kingdom from scratch against every odd- 

If this prince had the guidance of the king’s advisor- who had fought every battle beside the king, whose loyalty was stronger than a dozen lifetimes would ever see, who knew what it was to be tested in every way and grab hold tighter instead of letting go, who understood that battles could not be won alone, who would never abandon duty, love, or people- 

If the prince could look at the head scholar and head stable hand and understand what he was protecting… 

If he could look at the king and his advisor and understand what it meant to live for another… 

If this prince gained even a fraction of the power inside those two men… If he could understand just a fraction of what they knew it meant to be a ruler, to be a king, to be kind… 

If this prince took on even a sliver of their dedication- to each other and their kingdom… 

Minsoo smiled as he walked towards the library, ready to discuss the meeting for tomorrow. 

This kingdom would be just fine. 

He would be well prepared to bear the crown as his burden. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (So I can’t figure out how to make ao3 let me put 8/8 chapters ㅇ_ㅇ I kept putting it in, but it kept just putting a ?   
> But this is the last chapter! So thank you all and I’ll keep trying to get that fixed!)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so a bit of a long first chapter, but don’t worry, I will have more coming! I don’t have a schedule for this, but I will put another up as soon as possible!
> 
> Also, let me know what you guys want to see! I have a bunch of drafts I’ve been building up from heros to supernatural to spies to fluffy idols, so if there’s something you’d like to see, don’t be afraid to hmu!  
> Until next time!  
> -SS


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